m 


A  FIRST  COURSE  IN 
PHILOSOPHY 


BY 
JOHN  E.  RUSSELL 

PROFESSOR   OF   PHILOSOPHY   IN    WILLIAMS   COLLEGE 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1913 


\■^^ 


K/ 


lY  ^6 


COPTBIGHT,   1913 
BT 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


TO  ALL  MY  STUDENTS  IN   PHILOSOPHY  WHO,  IN  SUC- 
CESSIVE   CLASSES   FOR   NEARLY    A    QUARTER   OF 
A    CENTURY,    HAVE    BEEN    AN    UNFAILING 
SPRING    OF    PLEASURE     AND    INSPIRA- 
TION, THIS  BOOK   IS  INSCRIBED  IN 
AFFECTIONATE  REMEMBRANCE 


^j  4  -jic  O  v>  •  J* 


PREFACE 

This  book,  the  outgrowth  of  more  than  twenty  years  of 
teaching,  aims  especially  to  meet  the  wants  of  students  who 
are  young  in  the  study  of  philosophy.  It  is  my  hope  also, 
that  this  book  will  be  of  service  to  other  students  who,  work- 
ing in  other  fields,  desire  to  know  something  of  those  prob- 
lems of  the  world  and  our  human  life  with  which  philoso- 
phers are  occupied. 

I  have  endeavored  to  set  forth  the  main  doctrine  of 
philosophy  in  terms  sufficiently  simple,  and  in  an  exposition 
sufficiently  ample  to  enable  the  student  to  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  these  doctrines  and  to  appreciate  their  signifi- 
cance. 

I  have  aimed  to  encourage  the  student  to  philosophize 
for  himself,  rather  than  merely  to  appropriate  the  product 
of  other  men's  thinking.  With  this  purpose  in  view,  I 
have  let  the  representatives  of  various  philosophical  theories 
advocate  and  defend  their  respective  doctrines;  and  for  the 
most  part,  have  refrained  from  closing  the  debate. 

My  acquaintance  with  philosophy  has  taught  me  that 
its  questions  are  still  open,  and  that  it  is  the  mark  of  the 
truly  philosophic  mind  to  hold  whatever  convictions  to 
which  it  has  attained,  as  tentative  and  liable  to  revision  in 
the  light  of  fuller  evidence.  J.  E.  R. 

Williams  College, 
February  4,  1913. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.     Inthoduction 1 

I.  The  Meaning  of  Philosophy 1 

II.  Philosophy  and  Science 1 

III.  Philosophy  and  Religion 5 

IV.  The  Reasons  for  Philosophy 6 

PART  I 
THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

IL     The  Meaning  of  Being  Real 11 

III,  The  Nature  of  the  Real 19 

— V       I.     Duahsm 19 

'     II.     Materiahsm 26 

III.  Ideahsm       39 

IV.  Critical  or  Agnostic  monism 60^ 

IV.  The  Problem  of  the  One  and  the  Many US— 

I.  Monism 64 

II.  Pluralism 74 

III.     Monistic  PluraHsm — PluraHstic  Monism      ....      85 

V.     The  Soul  and  its  Connection  tvtth  the  Body      ....  92t 

VI.     Cosmology 103 

I.  The  Conceptions  of  Space  and  Time 103 

II.  Uniformity  of  Xature  and  Causation 117 

III.  Mechanical  and  Teleological  Conceptions  of  the 

World 129 

IV.  Objections  to  Teleology 140 

PART  II 
EPISTEMOLOGX 

VII.     The  Doctrine  of  Knowledge 149 

The  Meaning  of  Knowledge       149 

I.     RationaHsm 1^' 

II.  Kant's  Theory  of  Knowledge 164 

III.  The  Empirical  Theory  of  Knowledge 175 

IV.  The  Epistemology  of  Royce 187 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

Chapter  Pagb 

V      The  Pragmatic  Theory  of  Knowledge 191 

The  Pragmatic  Meaning  of  Truth      202 

The  Pragmatic  Meaning  of  Reality  or  the  Obj  ect 

in  Knowledge 205 

Objections  to  the  Pragmatic  Theory  of  Knowl- 
edge       207 

PART  III 

THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

VIII.     The  Philosophy  of  Conduct      223 

I.     The  Problem  of  Morality 225 

II.     The  Problem  of  ReUgion       262 

Bibliography 297 

Index  * 301 


A  FIRST  COUESE  IN  PHILOSOPHY 

CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTION 

I.  THE  MEANING  OF  PHILOSOPHY 
The  following  may  serve  as  definitions  of  philosophy: 

1.  Any  systematic  and  persistent  thinking  upon  the  nature 
and  meaning  of  the  real  world  and  our  existence. 

2.  An  attempt  to  reach  ultimate  explanation  of  experience. 

3.  An  attempt  to  solve  certain  problems  which  the  uni- 
verse about  us  and  our  human  life  force  upon  our  minds. 

II.  PHILOSOPHY  AND  SCIENCE 

Respecting  the  relation  of  philosophy  to  science,  two 
views  are  held.  One  view  is  that  they  are  fundamentally 
identical.  Their  subject  is  the  same,  their  ultimate  aim  is 
the  same;  the  difference  between  them  is,  that  science  exists 
only  in  the  form  of  special  sciences,  each  of  which  having  a 
field  within  which  its  investigations  are  confined  and  within 
which  its  principles  and  explanations  are  valid,  while  the 
field  of  philosophy  itself  is  coextensive  with  all  the  fields  of 
the  special  sciences,  philosophy  being  the  ideal  consumma- 
tion of  each  special  science,  'a  final  synthesis  of  them  all. 
Make  each  science  complete,  unite  the  special  knowledge 

so  obtained,  and  the  result  would  be  philosophic  knowledge. 

1 


^2  INTRODUCTION 

Tlxe'altn  of  phiiosophy  would  be  realized  in  the  realization 
of  the  aims  of  each  of  the  special  sciences. 

The  other  view  is  that  philosophy  is  essentially  different 
from  science,  that  it  has  a  field  of  its  own,  problems  peculiar 
to  itself,  and  which  do  not  lie  in  the  field  of  the  special 
sciences. 

Were  each  science  to  attain  ideal  completion,  the  task  of 
philosophy  would  still  remain,  its  problems  would  still 
await  solution.  Did  we  now  possess  complete  science 
the  questions  which  philosophy  attempts  to  answer  would 
still  be  open.  Philosophy  has  a  field  of  its  own  which  can 
be  delimited. 

In  one  aspect  this  field  includes  and  seems  to  be  only 
coextensive  with  the  special  fields  of  science.  The  reason 
for  this  close  relation  is  the  fact,  that  philosophy  presup- 
poses and  appropriates  the  knowledge  and  the  concep- 
tions which  each  science  suppHes,  and  by  means  of  these 
philosophy  seeks  to  frame  a  conception  of  the  whole  of 
reality  which  will  find  a  place  for  the  partial  truths  and 
conceptions  of  science  and  to  unite  them  in  a  total  view 
and  final  synthesis. 

But,  obviously,  that  which  seeks  the  synthesis  of  the 
sciences  must  itself  be  distinct  from  each  of  them,  and 
from  science  as  science.  The  problem  and  aim  of  philoso- 
phy therefore  clearly  demarcates  its  field  from  the  field  of 
the  special  sciences. 

To  be  specific,  there  are  two  sorts  of  matters  which  do 
not  lie  within  the  province  of  the  special  sciences,  and 
which  do  lie  within  the  field  of  philosophy:  1.  matters 
which  each  science  must  presuppose  and  make  its  working 
assumptions   or   postulates;  2.  matters   which   lie   beyond 


INTRODUCTION  3 

the  bounds  which  science  sets  for  its  pecuHar  task,  residual 
problems  which  transcend  the  boundary  lines  within  which 
scientific  explanation  moves. 

The  first  class  of  matters  which  lie  outside  the  field  of 
science  contain  such  conceptions  as  the  following:  Space, 
Time,  Matter,  Causation,  Force,  Life,  Mind,  etc.  The 
exact  meaning  of  these  conceptions  lies  outside  of  the 
field  of  science.  It  is  the  function  of  science  to  describe  in 
the  simplest  and  fewest  possible  terms  the  motions  of  that 
which  we  call  matter;  but  science  does  not  undertake  to 
say  what  matter  is.  Science  explains  the  phenomena  of 
life,  the  evolution  of  living  beings,  it  describes  their  various 
behaviors,  but  it  does  not  tell  us  what  life  is,  whence  it 
came  or  whither  it  goes.  Science  describes  the  various 
functions  of  mind,  it  formulates  the  laws  of  their  occurrence, 
it  investigates  the  connection  between  these  phenomena 
and  phenomena  of  the  physical  order;  but  science  leaves 
unanswered  the  question,  What  is  mind  ? 

The  second  species  of  matters  which  lie  beyond  the  bound- 
aries of  science  are  the  problems  of  meaning,  of  value,  of 
purpose.  These  questions  have  their  source  in  our  human 
experiences,  in  our  rational,  our  feeling,  our  active  nature; 
these  questions  of  whence,  whither,  why,  and  what  for, 
are  the  most  significant  and  the  most  urgent  ones  which 
the  world  and  life  put  to  us;  but  to  them  science  has  no 
answer.  Her  function  is  exhausted  when  she  has  answered 
the  question  of  how.  The  function  of  science  is  descrip 
tion;  so  far  as  the  world  is  describable,  it  belongs  to  science 
But  the  world  of  description  is  not  all  of  the  world.  There 
is  a  world  of  purposes ;  there  are  meanings  and  values,  and 
of  these  science  takes  no  account. 


A 


4  INTRODUCTION 

One  of  the  most  important  achievements  of  modem 
science  is  the  sharply  defined  and  narrowly  drawn  limits 
to  scientific  explanation.  It  is  to  this  clearer  understanding 
of  its  own  task  and  its  limits  that  science  is  in  no  small 
degree  indebted  for  her  most  important  and  brilliant 
achievements. 

The  emancipation  of  modern  science  from  metaphysics 
coincides  with  the  rapid  progress,  the  surprising  develop- 
ments of  science  within  a  comparatively  recent  period; 
but  this  more  distinct  and  narrower  boundary  of  science 
is  at  the  same  time  a  clearer  determination  of  the  field  of 
philosophy  and  it  is  more  possible  than  it  has  been  at  any 
time  before,  to  render  to  science  the  things  that  belong  to 
science,  and  to  philosophy  the  things  that  belong  to  philoso- 
phy. This  second  view  of  the  relation  between  philosophy 
and  science  is  the  one  we  must  adopt;  they  are  clearly 
different  in  their  subject  matters  and  in  their  aims. 

But  while  they  are  different,  they  are  intimately  related, 
and,  on  the  side  of  philosophy,  the  relation  is  one  of  depend- 
ence. Philosophy  presupposes  the  results  attained  by  the 
special  sciences;  it  can  frame  its  world  view  only  by  uniting 
in  that  view  the  conceptions  which  the  several  sciences 
have  elaborated.  Nothing  can  be  true  in  philosophy  which 
is  false  in  science;  and  philosophy  can  ignore  no  fact  which 
science  has  established..  But,  on  the  other  hand,  science 
must  confess  by  the  very  limitations  she  has  imposed  upon 
her  work,  that  she  stops  short  of  that  final  explanation, 
that  ultimate  solution  of  the  world  problem  which  it  is  the 
very  essence  of  our  rational  nature  to  seek  after.  ^Philosophy 
is  the  necessary  complement  of  science. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

III.  PHILOSOPHY  AND  RELIGION 
They  differ  in  aim  and  motive.  The  aim  of  philosophy 
is  theoretic.  It  is  comprehensive  knowledge,  completeness 
of  intellectual  view.  The  aim  of  religion  isL.p_ractical;  it  is 
the  satisfaction  of  life.  What  it  seeks  to  know  it  seeks  as  a 
means  to  this  end.  Philosophy  grows  out  of  the  rational 
demand  for  truth.  Religion  springs  from  the  needs  of  the 
heart  and  the  will.  In  religion,  man  seeks  a  reality  to 
which  he  can  entrust  his  life  and  all  that  is  dear  to  him,  a 
reality  which  will  conserve  his  supreme  values,  prosper 
his  aims,  fulfill  his  wishes,  aspirations  and  hopes.  What 
man  desires  to  know  in  religion,  and  all  that  he  religiously 
desires,  is,  that  his  World  or  some  Being  of  his  World  is 
friendly  to  him  and  is  able  to  maintain  his  life  against 
whatever  is  destructive  or  harmful. 

This  endeavor  of  man  to  relate  himself  in  a  practical 
way  to  a  power  not  himself,  but  which  is  for  him  and  works 
for  his  good,  is  the  substance  underlying  every  manifesta- 
tion of  religion,  from  that  of  primitive  men  to  the  religion 
of  the  most  civilized  men  of  to-day. 

Both  philosophy  and  religion  have  to  do  with  objective 
and  ultimate  reality,  with  that  which  has  supreme  signifi- 
cance and  value.  Both  seek  the  solution  of  the  problem 
of  the  world,  or  rather  of  our  existence,  our  place  in  this 
world.  It  is  no  less  vital  to  religion  to  have  assurance 
that  the  object  of  its  trust  and  worship  really  exists,  than 
is  the  objective  reality  to  the  philosopher  who  seeks  to 
comprehend  it.  There  is  a  further  difference  which  should 
not  be  overlooked;  it  is  that  philosophy  is  more  comprehen- 
sive than  religion;  it  includes  religion  as  one  of  its  problems. 
Philosophy  discharges  the  same  function  in  respect  to  our 


6  INTRODUCTION 

religious  experience  that  it  exercises  in  relation  to  science, 
or  to  man*s  life  in  all  its  aspects;  that  function  is  to  gain  a 
comprehensive  world  view,  in  which  the  beliefs  and  ideals 
of  religion  shall  have  their  place  determined,  their  value 
for  life  rightly  appraised,  their  claim  to  validity  or  truth 
passed  upon  by  that  highest  tribunal,  the  reflecting  and 
valuing  self  conscious  spirit  of  man.  For  instance,  religion 
and  science  are  said  to  be  in  conflict,  and  the  problem  of  a 
reconciliation  between  them  is  of  pressing  importance. 
Religion  and  morality  have,  it  is  claimed,  changed  their 
attitude  to  each  other.  In  the  past  their  relation  has  been 
one  of  mutual  dependence  and  reciprocal  influence.  The 
time  has  now  come  when  morality  should  quite  dispense 
with  religion;  a  religious  belief,  so  far  from  being  important 
and  serviceable  to  the  moral  life,  is  detrimental  to  the  highest 
type  of  morality.  Clearly  it  belongs  to  philosopy  to  deter- 
mine, so  far  as  any  settlement  of  these  matters  can  be  made, 
what  are  the  relations  of  religion  and  science  on  the  one 
side  and  of  religion  and  morality  on  the  other. 

IV.  THE  REASONS  FOR  PHILOSOPHY 

Philosophy  is  an  inevitable  undertaking.  When  experi- 
ence has  ripened  and  reason  is  awakened  and  he  has  begun 
to  eat  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  man  must  philosophize. 
The  option  he  has  is  to  do  so  badly,  or  in  some  degree 
wisely  and  successfully. 

It  has  often  been  an  objection  to  philosophy,  that  it 
leads  only  to  doubt,  never  to  knowledge;  it  asks  questions 
to  which  it  can  give  no  answer,  it  propounds  riddles  it 
cannot  solve;  it  is  a  fruitless  labor,  a  vain  quest;  the  latest 


INTRODUCTION  7 

philosophical  thinker  is  no  nearer  the  goal  of  his  endeavor 
than  the  first  who  essayed  the  task.  In  their  answers  to 
the  questions  concerning  the  universe,  the  meaning  and 
destiny  of  man's  existence,  the  philosophers  are  no  nearer 
an  agreement  than  were  those  of  the  first  generation.  These 
conflicting  solutions  of  philosophy  should  warn  us  from 
embarking  upon  an  enterprise  that  has  brought  so  little 
result;  and  admonish  us  against  the  unwisdom  of  concerning 
ourselves  with  matters  which  it  would  be  wiser  to  conclude 
are  beyond  our  human  faculties. 

Against  objections  of  this  sort,  the  justification  of  philoso- 
phy in  the  following:  It  is  not  the  philosopher,  but  the 
universe  and  our  human  life  that  propound  the  riddles 
which  so  tempt  and  baflie  at  the  same  time  our  ventures  of 
thought.  Philosophy  does  not  invent  these  problems;  it 
is  our  best  endeavor  to  solve  in  some  manner  the  problems 
we  cannot  avoid  if  we  think  at  all;  if  we  are  to  live  a  rational 
life,  and  not  be  content  with  the  life  of  the  brute.  But  even 
if  it  were  true  that  philosophy  has  hitherto  been  a  fruitless 
quest  for  the  Holy  Grail,  it  is  better  for  man,  worthier  of 
his  nature  to  have  gone  on  that  quest  than  tamely  to  have 
remained  at  home,  sunk  in  the  dull  life  of  the  brain,  or 
occupied  only  with  the  tasks  he  can  easily  and  surely  accom- 
plish. To  seek  truth  even  if  we  fail  to  find  it,  is  better  than 
to  decline  the  search  either  through  fear  of  failure  or  indiffer- 
ence to  the  enterprise. 

Furthermore,  were  it  the  case  that  this  labor  of  philosophy 
has  brought  no  success  either  to  the  generations  before 
us  or  to  our  own  age,  it  is  by  no  means  settled  that  those 
who  are  to  come  after  us  will  not  succeed  where  we  have 
failed;  the  way  is  yet  long  and  there  is  time  yet  for  achieve- 


8  INTRODUCTION 

ments  in  thought  of  which  we  can  form  but  a  faint 
conception. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  that  which  has  called  forth  philosophy 
is  man's  rational  life,  and  the  philosophic  endeavor  has  been 
prompted  and  sustained  by  a  deep  and  hitherto  ineradicable 
faith,  that  the  world  and  our  human  existence  have  a  mean- 
ing which  we  are  destined  in  an  increasing  measure  to 
understand.  Man's  constitutional  faith  is,  that  he  will 
not  be  put  to  intellectual  confusion  in  the  end,  that  his 
craving  for  meaning  and  for  good  are  yet  to  be  satisfied. 
Man  inevitably  believes  that  if  he  orders  his  thoughts 
aright,  and  makes  rational  his  actions,  his  world  will  even- 
tually show  itself  to  be  intelligible,  and  his  search  for  truth 
will  not  end  in  disappointment. 

Now  this  deeply  wrought  faith  man  cannot  rationally 
abandon  until  his  best  has  been  done,  his  last  effort  made. 
To  become  faithless  and  abandon  the  quest  until  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  world  problem  has  no  solution,  until  it  is  certain 
there  is  no  Holy  Grail,  were  to  be  unfaithful  to  man's  own 
higher  nature;  it  were  to  decline  in  the  scale  of  being;  to 
become  something  less  than  man.  But  is  the  case  so  bad 
with  our  human  philosophizing  endeavors  ?  Surely  some- 
thing has  been  gained  by  this  labor  of  so  many  generations 
of  great  thinkers;  I  for  one,  think  the  problems  of  phi- 
losophy, the  limits  within  which  our  thinking  can  hope  for 
success,  are  better  understood,  more  clearly  defined,  than 
they  were  in  the  minds  of  the  earlier  philosophical  thinkers. 
Now  it  is  no  shght  gain  to  have  brought  the  world-problem, 
and  the  problem  of  our  existence  into  clearer  more  definite 
formulation,  and  to  have  discovered  within  what  limits 
any  solution  of  these  great  problems  is  possible,  to  have 


INTRODUCTION  9 

eliminated  some  solutions,  and  to  have  determined  those 
within  which  our  final  choice  must  fall. 

The  demarcation  of  the  special  sciences,  the  elimination 
from  their  fields  of  matters  which  are  irrelevant  to  science; 
in  short,  the  establishment  of  the  sciences,  is  itself  a  philo- 
sophic achievement.  For  the  conception  of  science,  the 
determination  of  its  function,  its  limit,  is  possible  only  if 
some  point  of  view  is  taken  which  lies  outside  of  the  fields 
of  science,  from  which  it  is  possible  to  comprehend  and 
pass  judgment  upon  science  itself;  this  knowing  of  science 
is  itself  a  philosophical  function. 

But,  apart  from  the  consideration  of  progress  in  philoso- 
phy and  approximation  to  its  final  aim,  philosophy  is 
justified  for  another  reason — it  fosters  the  discipline  of  the 
mind,  it  imparts  the  willingness  to  see  all,  to  prove  all 
things,  to  suspend  judgment  until  the  evidence  is  all  in; 
to  exercise  a  rational  restraint  upon  passional  motives.  This 
is  both  requisite  to  true  philosophizing  and  the  natural 
fruit  of  its  exercise.  The  philosopher  as  such  is  not  a 
believer,  he  is  rather  a  critical  observer  and  judge  of  our 
various  human  beliefs,  or  better,  he  is  one  who  is  seeking 
by  this  thoughtful  survey  and  critical  judgment  to  determine 
the  relative  truth- values  of  these  often  warring  beliefs. 
Philosophy  may  be  defined  as  man's  endeavor  to  make 
rational,  coherent,  and  satisfpng  his  inevitable  beliefs. 
Philosophy  does  not  create  beliefs,  its  function  is  to  rational- 
ize them.  To  the  philosopher,  it  is  not  so  important  that 
we  believe,  as  are  our  reasons  for  believing  and  the  coher- 
ence of  a  given  belief  with  all  our  other  beliefs  and  with  the 
totality  of  our  experience. 


PART  I 
THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  MEANING  OF  BEING  REAL 

There  are  two  questions  which,  though  they  are  most 
intimately  connected,  it  is  nevertheless  important  to  keep 
distinct.  One  question  is,  What  should  we  mean  by  the 
predicate  term,  when  we  say  a  certain  object  is  real  ?  The 
other  question  is.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  object  we  accept 
as  real  ?  Of  course  these  two  questions  can  be  asked  con- 
cerning the  same  object;  one  and  the  same  object  presents 
two  aspects,  is  present  to  our  minds  in  two  ways.  One  of 
these  aspects  we  signify  by  the  term  that;  the  other  by  the 
term  what;  using  the  corresponding  abstract  terms  we  speak 
now  of  the  thatness  of  the  object  and  again  of  the  whatness 
of  the  object,  or  what  means  the  same  thing,  we  speak  of  the 
realness  of  the  object,  and  of  its  nature  as  a  real  object.  I 
may  be  in  quite  different  states  of  mind  in  relation  to  the  true 
character  of  a  presented  object.  I  may  be  absolutely  cer- 
tain that  the  object  exists;  but  I  may  be  altogether  uncertain 
what  is  the  ultimate  nature  of  that  same  object.  Of  these 
two  fundamental  questions  in  philosophy,  it  is  plainly  the 
first  with  which  we  must  make  a  beginning.  And  accord- 
ingly, our  first  special  problem  in  philosophy  is  the  meaning 

11 


12  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

of  being  real.  When  for  instance,  I  say  of  a  star,  I  seem 
to  be  perceiving.  The  star  is  real;  while  of  the  star  in  my 
dream,  I  afterwards  say.  It  was  an  unreal  star,  what  should 
I  mean  by  the  realness  of  the  star  of  my  waking  perception, 
and  by  the  unrealness  of  the  star  of  my  dream?  The 
star  of  my  dream  has  all  the  qualities  which  the  star  of  my 
waking  experience  possesses;  it  is  bright  with  the  same 
luster,  it  shines  in  the  same  skies,  it  excites  the  same  emo- 
tions; wherein  then  lies  the  difference  which  I  mean  to 
assert  when  I  say  of  one  of  the  stars.  It  is  real,  and  of  the 
other.  It  is  unreal  ?  In  what  consists  this  realness  of  the  one 
and  the  unrealness  of  the  other  star  ?  The  specific  prob- 
lem is  thus  defined.  We  can  best  approach  its  solution 
if  we  first  note  some  of  the  characteristics  of  those  objects 
we  regard  as  real. 

1.  Real  objects  are  social  objects.  The  real  star  is  not 
my  private  object;  it  is  shared  by  other  minds.  I  can 
appeal  to  the  perceptions  of  my  human  fellows.  Indeed 
I  must  be  able  to  do  so  if  I  am  to  justify  my  claim  that  my 
star  is  a  real  star.  On  the  contrary,  the  star  I  seem  to 
perceive  in  a  hallucination  I  may  be  experiencing  is  a  star 
which  no  other  mind  at  the  same  time  could  perceive;  this 
star  is  not  a  common  object;  my  experience  is  an  unsocial  one. 

2.  The  second  characteristic  of  a  real  object  is,  it  per- 
mits and  demands  from  me  a  different  behavior  toward  it 
from  that  which  it  is  possible  or  proper  for  me  to  adopt 
toward  an  unreal  object.  I  must  take  account  of  a  real  object 
in  my  thinking,  in  my  purpose  and  in  my  actions.  I  must 
in  some  way  reckon  with  it,  and  to  some  extent  at  least  on 
its  own  terms.  The  real  object  thus  coerces  my  behavior, 
imposes  a  condition  upon  my  thinking,  if  that  thinking  is 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  13 

to  attain  its  end.  The  real  object  in  one  aspect  of  it  is  an 
obstacle  to  my  thinking,  my  willing  and  to  my  action  in 
certain  directions;  it  compels  a  choice  of  other  directions 
if  I  am  to  go  on  at  all,  and  it  may  not  permit  me  to  remain 
where  I  am. 

3.  But  on  the  other  hand,  the  real  object  is  also  respon- 
sive to  my  mind,  it  is  fulfilling  in  relation  to  some  intention 
or  purpose  or  want  of  mine:  it  answers  my  questions,  it 
completes  what  would  otherwise  remain  partial,  fragmen- 
tary, and  unsatisfying.  This  third  characteristic  can  no 
more  be  denied  of  the  real  object  than  can  the  other  two. 

But  after  all,  does  this  statement  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  objects  we  call  real,  answer  our  question  about  the 
meaning  of  being  real  ?  Would  any  enumeration,  however 
complete,  of  the  marks  which  enable  us  to  tell  what  objects 
are  real,  be  a  definition  of  what  we  mean  by  calling  an  object 
real  ? 

We  may  admit  that  a  real  object  does  possess  these  quali- 
ties, does  function  in  this  manner  in  relation  to  our  experi- 
ence, but  does  all  this  really  answer  the  question  we  are 
trying  to  answer,  namely,  wherein  lies  the  realness  of  this 
object  ? 

Take  the  characteristics  we  call  its  social  significance. 
Let  it  be  true  that  no  object  is  real  which  all  minds  could 
not  recognize,  do  we  mean  that  it  is  just  this  fact  that  all 
these  minds  can  have  this  same  object  present  to  them, 
which  constitutes  the  realness  of  the  object.?  Is  it  the 
common  experience  which  makes  the  object  a  real  one,  or 
does  the  common  experience  or  possibility  of  it  afford  the 
proof  that  the  object  is  real  ?  In  which  case  the  realness 
of  the  object  is  something  distinct  from  the  common  experi- 


14  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

ence.  It  is  the  ground  or  reason  for  that  common  experi- 
ence. The  realness  of  the  object  explains  the  common 
experience,  which  otherwise  would  be  an  unsolved  problem 
but  the  mere  fact  that  it  is  a  social  object  does  not  constitute 
its  realness. 

The  case  is  the  same  with  the  other  two  characteris- 
tics of  real  objects.  What  we  should  mean  by  their  being 
real  is  distinct  from  certain  relations  they  sustain  to  our 
minds,  certain  functions  they  discharge,  or  any  significance 
or  value  which  may  attach  to  them  as  real;  being  real, 
these  two  things  belong  to  them,  but  it  is  not  these  things 
we  should  mean  by  their  being  real.  The  meaning  of 
what  is  to  be  real,  it  would  seem,  must  be  sought  in  some 
other  characteristic  of  the  object  and  in  some  other  relation 
to  our  minds,  and  it  is  just  in  this  mode  of  existence  of  the 
object,  its  relation  to  a  thinking  or  affirming  mind  that 
this  first  problem  in  philosophy  centers.  And  since  every 
object  (or  object  matter  of  our  thought)  whether  real  or 
unreal  must  exist  in  relation  to  some  mind,  a  real  object 
must  be  in  some  manner  related  to  the  mind.  Our  problem 
can  be  formulated  in  a  narrower  compass  and  in  more 
exact  terms,  namely:  How  is  the  real  object  related  to  the 
idea  which  seeks  to  know  that  object?  I  am  indebted  to 
Professor  Royce  for  this  simple  but  exceedingly  fruitful 
definition  of  the  problem  of  real  being. 

Concerning  real  being  two  doctrines  are  held.  One 
of  these  by  an  unfortunate  terminology  is  called  the  real- 
istic conception  of  being.  This  doctrine  holds  that  to  be 
real  means  to  be  independent  of  any  perceiving  or  thinking 
consciousness.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  object  exists 
apart   from    all    relations   to    our   minds.     An    absolutely 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  15 

unrelated  object  is  a  self  contradictory  conception.     The 
object  must  sustain  some  relations  to  our  minds  in  order/ 
to  be  judged  as  real  or  unreal. 

The  realist  (for  so  we  will  call  him)  maintains  that  the 
realness  of  the  object  is  its  independence  of  any  merely 
perceiving  or  asserting  mind  for  its  character  as  real.  The 
object  was  real  prior  to  this  mind's  acknowledgment  of  it, 
and  it  would  remain  real  were  this  mind  to  vanish  from  the 
universe.  The  real  object  is  one  which  can  enter  into  the 
knowing  relation  and  pass  out  of  it  without  being  affected 
thereby  in  its  character  as  real.  Merely  thinking  of  or 
cognizing  such  an  object  does  not  in  any  wise  affect  the 
matter  of  its  real  existence. 

The  second  of  these  doctrines,  which  we  will  call  the 
idealistic  conception  of  the  real  being,  maintains  that  the 
real  object  cannot  be  independent  of  the  idea  which  knows 
or  seeks  it.  The  real  object,  this  doctrine  asserts,  would 
lose  its  realness  altogether,  did  no  mind  perceive,  think, 
or  otherwise  take  notice  of  it.  The  realness  of  the  object, 
no  less  than  its  qualities,  belongs  to  the  object  only  because 
this  object  is  not  independent  of  experience.  It  is  worth 
while  to  discuss  these  two  doctrines  somewhat. 

The  realist  in  support  of  his  view,  appeals  to  the  experi- 
ence of  being  coerced  in  our  perceptions,  to  our  conscious- 
ness of  obstacles,  resistance  to  actions,  to  a  persistent 
stubbomess  in  the  grain  of  experience,  which  we  cannot 
change  at  will;  his  contention  is  that  these  facts  compel 
the  assumption  of  something  which  is  independent  of  our 
experience  itself;  that  in  these  experiences  we  have  to  do 
with  a  reality,  the  certain  mark  of  which  is  independence 
of  our  minds. 


16  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

To  this  the  idealist  replies,  coerciveness,  resistance  to 
our  active  experiences,  stubborness  of  experience  are 
doubtless  facts;  they  are  situations  which  arise  in  the  course 
of  experience;  but  they  do  not  for  that  reason  point  to  some- 
thing which  is  independent  of  experience  as  such;  but  rather 
to  other  facts,  other  features  of  experience  which  are  incom- 
patible with  those  parts  or  regions  of  experience  in  which 
this  coercion,  resistance,  or  persistence  is  felt.  I  am  coerced 
in  some  particular  experience,  not  because  there  is  some- 
thing which  is  independent  of  all  experience,  but  because 
other  parts  of  experience,  other  needs,  other  purposes  call 
for  a  limitation  or  a  rejection  altogether  of  this  particular 
activity  or  process  of  experience.  I  meet  resistance  to  my 
efforts,  not  because  there  is  something  which  is  independ- 
ent of  all  purposive  activity,  but  because  other  interests 
and  purposes  call  for  a  different  kind  or  direction  of  activity. 
The  stubborness  in  the  grain  of  experience  does  not  come 
from  something  which  is  outside  and  independent  of  experi- 
ence itself,  but  from  the  structure  and  habits  which  experi- 
ence has  acquired,  and  in  particular  from  the  social  character 
of  our  human  experience. 

This  observation  leads  to  the  second  fact  to  which  the 
realist  appears  in  support  of  his  doctrine,  that  fact  is,  just 
this  social  significance  of  real  objects.  Real  objects  are  the 
basis  of  common  perception;  they  are  the  standard  of 
agreeing  judgments,  they  make  possible  social  intercom- 
munication and  serve  as  the  basis  of  common  plans  of 
action. 

All  this  is  possible,  says  the  realist,  only  if  there  is  some- 
thing which  is  independent,  both  of  every  individual 
experience  and  of  the  common  experience  also.     It  is  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  17 

object's  independence  which  makes  it  intelligible  that 
there  can  be  common  perceptions,  common  plans  of  action, 
and  cooperation  in  practical  activities. 

Now  the  idealist  freely  recognizes  this  independence  of 
the  merely  individual  or  private  mind  in  the  case  of  our 
perceptions,  assertions  of  fact  and  of  our  social  communica- 
tions and  actions;  but,  he  maintains,  that  independence  of 
the   individual's   experience   is    not   for  that  reason  inde- 
pendence of  all  experience,  of  experience  ueb^xhaupt.     His 
contention  is,  that  the  character  of  independence  in  relation 
to  the  individual's  mind  has  been  created  by  the  social 
medium  in  which  particular  objects  have  been  constituted 
and  defined.     Real  objects  exist  only  in  or  for  our  social 
experience;  when,  therefore,  the  individual  appeals  from  his 
private  experience  to  the  object  as  real  as  a  standard  of 
judgment,  he  is  appealing  to  his  social  fellows'  experience; 
for  the  real  is  what  all  the  world  experiences.     Thus  does 
the   object  reveal   its  realness,  not   by  its   independence  of 
5    out  perceptions,  thoughts,  and  purposes;  but  by  the  fact  that 
f   it  sustains  a  relation  of  dependence  upon  all  our  minds.     The 
object  is  real  for  the  sole  reason  that  it  is  an  inseparable 
part  of  our  mental  lives;  because  it  is  the  fulfiller  of  pur- 
poses, the  satisfaction  of  wants^the  completer  of  fragmentary 
meanings;  it  is  just  these  effective  connections  between  the 
object  and  our  minds,  which  the  term  real  properly  connotes. 
Against    the    realist's   position   the    idealist    makes   this 
further  objection.     Did  the  realness  of  objects  consist  in 
their   independence,  we  could   never  know  which  of  the 
multitudinous  objects  presented  to  us,  are  real,  for,  in  order 
to  determine  that  matter,  it  would  be  necessary  to  know 
whether  the  object  which  claims  to  be  real;  could  validate 


18  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

its  claim  by  continuing  to  exist  and  to  remain  unaffected 
in  the  absence  or  withdrawal  of  all  human  perceptions  or 
thinking;  now,  obviously  such  a  test  of  real  being  is  impos- 
sible, and  consequently  the  realist's  doctrine  affords  us  no 
test  or  criterion  for  distinguishing  between  real  and  unreal 
objects. 

The  two  opposed  meanings  of  real-being  which  have  been 
discussed  will  come  into  view  again,  since  they  underly  the 
doctrine  of  the  nature  of  the  real,  and  also  the  doctrine  of 
knowledge. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  NATURE  OF  THE  REAL 

In  this  chapter  we  pass  on  to  the  second  special  problem 
for  philosophical  thinking.  The  nature  of  what  is  real  or 
more  accurately,  the  nature  of  ultimately  real  being. 

I.  DUALISM 

The  real  beings  in  the  world  of  our  prephilosophical 
thinking  appear  to  be  of  two  readily  distinguishable  types, 
(1)  material  beings,  and  (2)  minds.  To  one  or  the  other 
of  these  categories  we  assign  every  object  of  experience. 

The  differences  which  in  our  experience  seem  to  separate 
these  two  kinds  of  being  are  ultimate  and  irreducible. 
Accordingly,  the  philosophical  doctrine  which  lies  closest 
to  empirical,  common  sense  thinking  of  the  plain  man,  is 
dualism. 

The  essence  of  this  doctrine  is,  real  beings  for  our  human 

minds  at  least,  are  of  two  fundamentally  different  kinds* 

material  beings  and  minds.     Matter  and  mind  are  two  terms 

under  which  our  real  world  may  be  defined.     Matter  and 

mind    designate,  substance-beings,  whose    properties    and 

modes  of  action  are  fundamentally  unlike.     Each  of  these 

kinds  of  being  has  a  nature  of  its  own,  neither  depending 

upon  the  other  for  its  nature,  or  its  power  of  action,  or  of 

being  affected  by  action.     It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the 

Dualism  here  set  forth  is  not  absolute.     The  viewpoint  is 

that  of  our  human  minds,  not  that  of  the  Absolute  Mind, 

19 


20  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

if  there  be  such  kind  of  Ideal  Being.  This  dualistic  relation 
obtains  between  beings  which  are  admittedly  finite,  and  it 
may  be  added,  dependent  beings.  The  dualist  of  this  type 
may  concede,  that,  as  between  the  Absolute  Being,  the 
Original  and  All  Conditioning  Being,  and  the  real  beings 
which  compose  our  world  of  experience,  the  relation  is  not 
of  dualistic  separation  and  independence;  his  proposition 
is  that  real  beings  as  substances  constitute  our  known  world, 
and  that  these  beings  are  of  two  types  which  are  unlike  in 
their  essential  attributes. 

With  this  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  dualism  we  will 
proceed  to  its  proof.  The  issue  between  the  dualist  and 
his  opponents  turns  on  the  nature  of  what  are  called  external 
objects;  the  dualist  holds  that  these  objects  are  non-mental, 
and  hence  that  the  physical  universe  consists  of  non-mental 
beings  and  their  actions.  The  rejecter  of  this  view  of  the 
external  world  denies  this. 

The  first  difficulty  which  the  dualist  encounters  are  the 
so-called  secondary  quahties  of  material  objects.  He  seems 
forced  to  admit  that  these  qualities  are  subjective  affections, 
not  properties  of  non-mental  things;  colors,  sounds,  smells, 
etc.,  do  not  exist  outside  or  independently  of  perceiving 
minds;  they  are  mental  states.  In  whatever  way  they 
may  originate,  their  content  or  quale,  is  not  any  non-mental 
reality.  Hence,  some  part  of  what  the  unphilosophical 
thinker  takes  as  being  non-mental  turns  out  to  be  altogether 
mental  in  its  very  essence;  their  esse  is  their  percipi,  and  if, 
as  the  duaHst  maintains,  these  qualities  are  objective  in 
the  sense  at  least  that  we  are  bound  in  some  manner  to  refer 
them  to  objects,  they  tell  us  nothing  respecting  the  nature 
of  these  objects,  whether  these  objects  are  mind-like  or 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  21 

non-mental  beings.  But  the  dualist  may  fall  back  upon  the 
primary  qualities  of  Descartes  and  Locke — extension,  form, 
solidity,  and  motion,  and  maintain  with  Locke,  that  it  is 
the  distinction  of  these  qualities,  that  they  do  reveal  to  us 
material  beings;  these  qualities  being  as  Descartes  held 
essential  to  the  conception  of  matter  itself;  hence  these 
quahties,  to  use  Locke's  words,  *'Are  in  things  whether  we 
perceive  them  or  not."  And  since  as  Locke  maintained,  it 
is  these  quahties  which  we  perceive,  it  follows  that  in 
perception  we  have  disclosed  to  us  the  essential  nature  of 
non-mental  beings. 

But  unfortunately,  it  is  just  this  assumption  of  so-called 
primary  or  essential  qualities  that  is  challenged  by  the 
opponent  of  dualism;  and  this  distinction  between  two 
sorts  of  qualities  is  a  vulnerable  point  in  the  dualist's 
doctrine.  For  how  can  he  show  that  the  primary  qualities — 
extension,  solidity,  motion,  etc. — are  in  things  any  more  than 
are  the  secondary  qualities  whose  objective  existence  he  has 
surrendered  ?  Space,  resistance,  motion,  etc.,  signify  certain 
perceptions,  certain  forms  and  combinations  of  our  sensations!^ 
as  truly  as  do  color,  sound,  odor,  etc.  They  do  not  revea-L 
to  us  the  existence  of  non-mental  objects  any  more  than  do 
the  so-called  secondary  qualities  which  the  dualist  has 
admitted  carry  no  such  relation  of  material  reality. 

Such  appears  to  be  the  dilemma  into  which  the  duahst  is 
brought  by  his  attempt  to  maintain  a  distinction  between  the 
qualities  of  objects.  The  first  step  toward  this  fatal  situar 
tion  is  the  admission  that  things  are  not  as  the  plain  man 
believes.  They  are  not  just  what  they  seem  to  be;  he  is 
then  forced  to  the  admission  that  things  are  in  no  respect 
what  they  appear  to  be;  and  the  inevitable  question  comes, 


22  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

Do  they  appear  at  all  or  what  reason  is  there  for  holding 
that  these  are  non-mental  things  at  all  ?  It  would  seem  that 
if  the  dualist  accepts  the  doctrine  which  reduces  some 
qualities  of  his  non-mental  beings  to  subjective  states,  he 
will  be  compelled  to  reduce  all  these  qualities  to  the  same 
terms;  and  when  he  has  done  so,  the  residuum  of  real  being 
will  be  Locke's  substance,  which  could  only  be  defined  as  a 
something  we  know  not  what — substratum  or  support 
Qf —so-called  qualities.  Obviously  such  a  conclusion  is 
fatal  to  the  dualist's  doctrine. 

But,  after  all,  is  the  dualist  forced  into  such  a  dilemma  ? 
Why  need  he  take  the  first  fatal  step  ?     Why  need  he  go  the 
one  mile  with   his    adversary,  who  will   certainly  compel 
him  to  go  the  twain  ?     Why  should  he  abandon  the  position 
of  the  plain  man,  the  view  of  common  sense;  and  not  hold 
that  colors,  sounds,  smells,  etc.,  belong  to  things  as  truly  as 
Jength,  breadth,  soHdity,  and  motion;  and  that  they  reveal 
as  truly  the  nature  and  mode  of  behavior  of  real  beings  as 
do  the  other  qualities  ?     Why  should  not  the  dualist  main- 
tain that  sensations  are  not  subjective  states  merely,  but  are 
cognitive  acts,  and  hence  objective  in  their  necessary  impli- 
cation ?     Should  he  not  maintain  that  in  sensation  we  are 
cognitive   of   objective   reality,   and   this   is   true   in   some 
degree  of  every  sensation  ?     May  not  the  dualist  hold  that 
the  plain  man  is  not  altogether  in  error  in  his  conviction  that 
it  is  the  fragrance  of  the  orange  that  he  smells,  its  sweetness 
that  he  tastes,  its  special  shade  of  yellow  color  that  he  sees  ? 
May  not  the  dualist  maintain  that  an  objective  existence  of 
some  sort  at  least  is  as  indubitably  presented  in  these  sen- 
sations as  it  is  in  the  space  sensations  or  those  of  touch, 
resistance,  or  motion  ? 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  -23 

The  positive  proof  of  the  duahstic  theory  is  drawn  from 
our  cognitive  experience,  and  is  the  following:  Our  im- 
mediate experience  gives  knowledge  of  something  objective 
which  provokes  from  us  various  reactions  or  responses,  such 
as  sense  perceptions,  affective  states,  emotional  attitudes, 
and  volitional  actions.  It  is  the  clear  testimony  of  con- 
sciousness that  in  these  reactive  states  we  are  dealing  with 
a  trans-subjective  reality  of  some  sort.  This  experience 
datum  is  the  starting-point  of  all  further  knowledge.  By 
further  experiences,  under  the  lead,  and  by  the  aid  of  ideas 
(whose  function  it  is  to  represent  and  variously  unite  ex- 
perience), we  gradually  make  out  and  define  the  nature,  the 
mode  of  beha\'ior.  of  objectively  exi-ting  tilings.  Xow, 
our  scientific  knowledge  is  built  up  essentially  in  the  same 
way  as  our  prescientific  knowledge:  the  main  ditference  is, 
that  in  science,  we  employ  more  accurate  and  better  regu- 
lated methods  of  observation;  we  test  more  carefully  ideas 
by  experience;  we  have  invented  instruments  for  finer,  more 
extensive  observation,  and  for  more  exact  measurement. 
Above  all,  we  have  constructed  those  wonderful  mental 
instruments,  abstract,  general  ideas — ideal  descriptions  and 
formulas  in  which  we  can  summarize  and  describe  countless 
phenomena,  and  those  which  ranc^e  over  a  l>oundless 
extent.  Thanks  to  these  instruments  of  observation  and 
reasoning,  science  is  able  to  penetrate  far  into  the  structure 
of  the  physical  universe  which  en^-irons  us. 

But  this  more  extended  view  of  science  does  not  tend  to    . 
obhterate  the  distinction  between  mind  and  matter.     It  does 
not    tend    to    assimilate    the    one   t}"pQ   of   reality   to   the 
other.      On    the    contrary,    the    non-mind-Hke    character 
of   physical    reality  is  more  strongly  impressed  upon  the 


24  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

imagination  with  every  step  in  the  progress  of  physical 
science. 

We  will  leave  it  to  the  idealist  to  meet  this  argument, 
when  we  shall  listen  to  his  explanation  of  the  world  of  scien- 
tific knowledge.     In  the  meantime,   the  reasoning  of  the 

dualist  encounters  an  objection  of  the  following  sort. 
Dualism  makes  the  fact  of  knowledge  a  miracle,  to  say  the 

least.  It  is  certainly  incomprehensible  how  a  knowing 
relation  can  exist  between  two  such  disparate  beings  as  his 
theory  postulates.  The  expedients  which  the  continuators 
of  Descartes'  theory  were  compelled  to  use  in  their  efforts  to 
get  over  the  ugly  broad  ditch,  when  mind  and  body  are 
conceived  to  be  fundamentally  different  in  their  essential 
properties,  are  an  instructive  chapter  in  the  history  of 
human  speculation. 

The  dualist  must  meet  this  objection  with  a  direct  chal- 
lenge of  its  assumption,  that  only  beings  of  like  natures  can 
act  upon  each  other,  or  come  into  the  cognitive  relations,  or 
exist  in  a  unity  of  reciprocal  influence.  *'What  sort  of 
beings,"  he  will  say,  **can  be  related  to  each  other,  or  in 
what  way  they  are  related,  only  experience  can  inform  us; 
it  is  not  a  matter  to  be  settled  by  a  priori  assertions  of  what 
is  possible.  Our  human  minds  cannot  determine  how  reality 
must  be  made,  or  what  relations  between  real  beings  are 
possible  antecedent  to  what  experience  reveals  to  us. 
Our  experience  does  constrain  us  to  recognize  two  sorts 
of  beings,  having  fundamentally  different  attributes;  and 
on  the  basis  of  the  same  experience  we  are  constrained  to 
assume  that  interaction  or  reciprocal  dependency  does 
obtain  betv/een  mental  and  corporeal  being.  This  influence 
cannot  be  rejected  on  the  ground  of  its  alleged  incompre- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  25 

hensibility.  Our  experience  clearly  presents  this  relation  of 
reciprocal  influence  between  mind  and  body;  things  go  on 
as  if  mental  states  determined  the  occurrence  of  body  states, 
and,  conversely,  body  states  determine  mental  states;  there 
is  as  much  evidence  from  experience,  that  mind  and  body 
in  some  meaning  of  the  term  act  upon  each  other,  as  there 
is  that  your  physical  bodies  act  upon  each  other.  To  object 
that  causal  connection  cannot  exist  between  the  mental  and 
the  physical  is  not  to  the  point,  until  it  is  made  clear  exactly 
what  is  to  be  meant  by  causal  connection.  If  nothing  more 
is  to  be  meant  than  a  relation  of  invariable  succession,  there 
is  as  much  causal  connection  between  mental  states  and 
body  states  as  there  is  between  physical  states;  if  the  con. 
ception  of  causality  be  that  of  some  sort  of  dynamic  con- 
nection, involving  a  passing  influence,  there  is  as  good  evi- 
dence that  this  sort  of  connection  holds  between  the  mind 
and  body  as  there  is  that  it  obtains  between  two  material 
bodies.'* 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  dualist  may  be  supposed  to  give 
his  reasons  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him,  and  defend  his 
belief  against  objections.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  stu- 
dent will  take  this  presentation  of  the  dualist's  reasons  as  a 
suggestion  to  independent  reasoning  on  his  own  part- 
Let  him  examine  the  dualist's  doctrine  and  he  may  discover 
weaknesses  in  the  reasons  which  support  the  dualistic  theory; 
he  may  add  confirmations  of  it  by  reasoning  which  has  not 
been  outlined.  The  student  in  philosophy  does  not  need 
to  go  far  ere  he  discovers  that  it  is  rash  to  conclude  that 
the  last  word  has  already  been  spoken,  either  for  or  against 
any  philosophical  doctrine. 


26  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

II.  MATERIALISM 

I  will  next  turn  to  another  solution  of  our  problem  of  the 
nature  by  real  being.  This  is  the  solution  offered  by  the 
materialist.  This  doctrine  may  be  best  defined  in  the 
following  statement:  Fundamental  or  substance-being  is 
material;  all  other  forms  of  being  have  been  derived  from, 
and  for  their  existence  and  their  powers  of  action,  are 
dependent  upon  material  processes.  It  should  be  carefully 
noted  that  the  materialist  does  not  deny  the  existence  of 
mind  as  mental  processes  nor  their  unlikeness  to  material 
processes.  His  doctrine  is,  that  mind  owes  its  existence 
to  matter,  and  so  depends  upon  material  conditions,  that 
if  these  conditions  are  removed  or  altered  in  a  certain  way^ 
mind  ceases  to  be,  or  is  profoundly  changed.  The  essen- 
tial import  of  this  doctrine  is  its  reduction  of  the  mental 
life  to  absolute  dependency  upon  material  processes. 
Matter  is  original  and  conditioning  in  its  relation  to  mind. 

So  much  for  the  statement  of  the  doctrine.  We  proceed 
next  to  the  proof  of  this  doctrine.  The  theory  in  the  first 
place  recommends  itself  by  its  seeming  clearness  and  sim- 
plicity, and  especially  by  the  apparent  fact  that  its  real 
being  is  actually  present  to  us  in  our  sense  experience. 
Matter  appears  to  be  an  unquestionable  fact.  Furthermore, 
material  being  seems  to  be  so  easily  defined,  its  very  nature 
lies  open  to  view;  we  are  so  well  acquainted  with  its  prop- 
erties; these  are  seemingly  few,  altogether  conceivable, 
and  the  laws  in  accordance  with  which  material  being 
behaves  are  simple  and  admit  of  a  clear  and  exact 
formulation. 

A  second  proof  is  supposed  to  be  afforded  by  physical 
science.     If    matter    is    taken    to     be    the    basal    reality. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  27 

and  all  processes  and  phenomena  are  reduced  in  ultimate 
terms  to  material  processes,  it  becomes  possible  to  grasp  in  ■ 
thought  the  unity,  the  uniformity  and  continuity  which  the    ^ 
world  exhibits,  when  we  thus  penetrate  beyond  the  ever- 
changing,  disconnected,  and  endless  variety  of  its  surface 
aspects. 

The  third  proof  of  this  theory  is  based  upon  the  peculiar 
relation  which  mental  processes  sustain  to  matter. 

Within  the  field  of  our  knowledge,  mind  nowhere  appears- 
save  in  connection  with  material  processes/;'^*  so  far  as  we 
know  it  exists  only  in  connection  with  a  material  organism 
— more  specifically,  a  nervous  system.  Material  processes, 
however,  do  exist  apart  from  the  mind.  The  inference  to 
be  drawn  from  this  fact  would  seem  to  be,  that  matter  is 
the  original  and  conditioning  reality,  mind  a  dependency 
of  matter;  its  existence  is  phenomenal. 

Again,  if  we  survey  the  history  of  mind,  we  shall  see  that  / 
matter  is  first  in  the  order  of  genesis;  the  cosmos  was  old 
before  the  advent  of  mind;  only  when  material  organisms 
had  reached  a  certain  stage  of  development  did  mind 
appear;  and  its  growth  from  its  elementary  form  runs 
parallel  with  the  evolution  of  the  nervous  system  apart 
from  which  it  never  appears.  Once  more.  The  facts  of 
pathology  force  upon  us  the  same  conviction  of  the  depend- 
ent, the  phenomenal  being  of  mind.  Injuries  to  the  brain 
or  diseases  in  this  delicate  organ  are  invariably  followed  by 
mental  disorder  and  even  by  the  destruction  of  intelligence. 

The  clear  deduction  from  these  facts,  the  materialist 
maintains,  is,  that  mind  exists  as  an  accompaniment  of 
material  facts;  its  destiny  is  bound  up  with  that  of  material 
organisms — it  exists   and   maintains    its    normal  functions 


28  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

so  long  as  the  nervous  system  maintains  its  integrity;  it 
ceases  to  exist  when  that  nervous  system  is  disintegrated 
by  disease  or  by  the  death  of  the  body. 

I  have  now  presented  the  argument  for  materiaHsm.  Let 
us  examine  it.  At  the  outset,  the  materiahst  must  be 
reminded  that  material  being  is  a  theory,  a  metaphysical 
behef ,  not  a  fact  of  direct  knowledge  or  a  datum  of  experi- 
ence. Matter  is  hypothetical;  and  the  materialist  can 
establish  its  actual  existence  only  if  he  can  show  that  it 
alone  affords  an  adequate  explanation  of  the  facts  of 
experience.  When,  therefore,  the  advocate  of  materialism 
describes  matter  as  that  which  is  manifest  to  our  senses,  he 
begs  the  whole  question;  some  kind  of  being  doubtless  is 
manifest  to  our  senses,  but  of  what  sort  this  being  is,  our 
senses  do  not  inform  us. 

Coming  next  to  the  proof  of  this  doctrine  which  the 
materialist  derives  from  science,  we  may  ask,  Does  science 
directly  support  the  doctrine  of  materialism?  Are  the 
basal  concepts  of  physical  science  identical  with  the  material 
being  of  the  materialist?  It  must  not  be  overlooked  that 
some  of  the  best  representatives  of  scientific  opinion  dis- 
tinctly repudiate  the  doctrine  of  materiaHsm;  others  are 
distinctly  idealist  in  their  metaphysics;  most  scientists 
to-day  regard  the  problem  of  the  nature  of  ultimate  being 
as  a  subject  which  transcends  the  limits  of  science;  science 
is  not  concerned  with  its  solution.  It  would  seem,  there- 
fore, that  the  materiahst  cannot  claim  the  direct  support 
of  science;  for  science  is  as  compatible  with  the  doctrine 
of  idealism  as  with  materialism. 

If  we  critically  examine  the  materialist's  conception  of 
matter,  we  shall  not  find  it  so  clear,  so  intelligible  and  self 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  29 

consistent  as  it  has  been  assumed  to  be.  The  search  for 
the  ultimate  constitution  of  matter  has  as  yet  not  reached 
its  goal;  the  latest  speculations  on  the  basis  of  physical 
science  lead  toward  a  conception  which  is  so  far  removed 
from  the  conception  of  the  first  materialists  that  we  seem 
justified  in  expecting  that  the  final  outcome  of  this  specu- 
lation will  be  the  reduction  of  the  materialist's  matter  to 
the  status  of  a  phenomenal  expression  of  some  kind  of  being 
which  cannot  be  thought  in  terms  of  matter.  The  term 
no-matter-in-motion  would  seem  to  be  the  best  definition 
of  this  final  conception  of  matter.  It  would  appear  then, 
that  the  very  attempt  to  reach  a  satisfactory  conception  of 
matter  carries  us  to  a  something  which  is  other  than,  and 
beyond  that  which  we  know  as  matter;  matter  becomes 
phenomenal  and  the  basal  reahty  must  be  sought  elsewhere. 

But,  were  the  materialist  more  successful  than  he  is  in 
his  conception  of  material  reality,  is  the  relation  he  assumes 
between  mind  and  body,  namely,  that  mind  depends  upon 
material  processes  for  its  existence,  the  only  admissible 
inference  ?  What  is  the  fact  from  which  this  inference  is 
drawn  ?  The  absence  of  any  evidence  of  the  continued 
existence  of  mind  when  the  material  processes  with  which 
its  activity  was  connected  has  ceased  ?  Two  deductions  are 
possible  from  this  fact.  1,  mind  has  ceased  to  exist,  2, 
mind  no  longer  manifests  itself,  in  the  absence  of  appropriate 
media  of  manifestation  or  expression.  In  other  words,  we 
may  conclude  from  this  fact,  either  that  mind  depends  upon 
a  material  organism  for  its  existence,  or  that  it  depends 
upon  this  organism  for  the  transmission^  or  expression  of 
itself. 

May  not  the  reply  to  the  materialist  be.  One  is  not  bound 


30  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

to  conclude  that  mind  has  ceased  to  exist  when  it  has  ceased 
to  express  itself  in  the  only  way  in  which  we  have  known 
it  to  manifest  its  existence.  The  absolute  dependence  of 
the  mental  on  the  material  is  not  the  sole  legitimate  con- 
clusion from  the  facts  of  experience.  Unless  the  materialist 
can  show  what  is  the  nature  of  tliis  assumed  dependency, 
his  inference  that  it  is  on  the  side  of  mind  only  and  is 
absolute,  may  fairly  be  challenged. 

This  leads  to  the  crucial  point  in  the  materialist's  doctrine. 
His  theory  requires  that  the  relation  between  mind  and  body 
shall  be  conceived  as  one  of  causation,  this  causation  being 
on  the  side  of  the  material  process;  the  material  must  be 
always  the  cause,  the  mental  always  the  effect.  But  now, 
how  will  the  materialist  conceive  the  causal  relation  itself  ? 
Will  he  accept  the  scientific  meaning  of  cause,  which  is  that 
of  invariable  antecedence  ?  E  he  does  accept  this  meaning 
of  the  causal  relation,  how  can  he  establish  his  thesis,  that 
matter  is  always  the  cause  of  mental  states.?  The  only 
evidence  he  has  to  support  his  proposition  is  experience; 
now  experience  affords  just  as  much  evidence  for  the  propo- 
sition that  mind  is  in  some  instances  the  cause  of  body 
states  as  for  the  proposition  that  body  processes  are  the 
cause  of  mental  states.  Bodily  movements  and  internal 
changes  as  regularly  follow  upon  certain  mind  states  as  do 
mind  states  upon  certain  body  states. 

Or  will  the  materialist  insist  that  causation  is  more  than 
invariable  antecedence  in  a  phenomenal  series?  Will  he 
maintain  that  there  is  a  dynamic  transaction  of  some  sort, 
the  expenditure  of  energy,  when  the  event  called  effect 
occurs?  If  so,  then  when  a  mental  event  occurs,  there 
should  be  the  disappearance  of   a  determinable    quantity 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  31 

of  energy  in  the  physical  series;  but  this  is  not  the  case. 
The  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  holds  true  of  physical 
events  only,  but  not  between  the  physical  and  the  mental 
events;  the  latter  are  outside  of  this  dynamic  order,  they 
are  epi-phenomenal  incidents  to  a  process  of  which  they 
form  no  integral  parts;  consequently  the  law  of  causal 
connection  in  this  meaning  of  the  term  does  not  apply  to 
the  relation  between  the  mental  and  the  corporeal  states. 

This  conclusion  which  seems  inevitable  carries  w^ith  it 
the  overthrow  of  materialism.  The  materialist  seems  to 
be  forced  to  admit  that  the  only  relation  that  to  our  knowl- 
edge exists  between  the  mental  states  and  physical  processes 
is  one  of  parallelism  or  mere  correspondence  or  concomi- 
tance; and  this  admission  is  fatal  to  his  argument.  Thus 
it  appears  that  in  whatever  way  we  may  interpret  the  relation 
between  mind  and  body,  materialism  derives  no  support 
from  the  facts  of  experience.  The  conclusion  of  the  matter 
would  seem  to  be,  that  on  theoretic  grounds,  materialism  is 
not  susceptible  of  proof. 

But  difficulties  of  another  sort  confront  the  theory  of 
materialism.  The  materialist  assumes  that  matter  exists; 
it  is  therefore  a  known  object  or  an  object  of  thought. 
Now,  the  necessary  presupposition  of  a  known  fact  is  a 
knowing  mind  or  a  knowing  process.  Is  not  then  the 
materialist  placed  in  the  following  dilemma?  In  this 
knowing  of  matter  there  must  either  be  a  knowing  being 
which  is  distinct  from  material  being  which  is  the  object, 
or  this  knowing  is  merely  a  function  of  matter,  in  other 
words  matter  knows  itself.  Now,  if  the  materialist 
admits  the  real-being  of  mind,  the  knower,  we  have  seen  he 
cannot  prove  that  this  being  is  dependent  upon  m&tter  for 


32  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

its  existence.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  materialist  says 
this  knowing  is  but  a  functioning  of  matter,  then  by  this 
identification  of  the  mental  and  the  material,  he  has  brought 
a  contradiction  into  his  own  definition  of  matter,  which 
clearly  distinguishes  it  from  mind;  if  both  mind  and  matter 
can  be  defined  in  the  same  terms,  there  are  as  good  reasons 
for  formulating  material  processes  in  terms  of  consciousness 
as  there  are  for  the  materialist's  formulation.  Cannot  the 
materiahst  fairly  be  challenged  to  define  his  matter  in  any 
other  terms  than  those  which  connote  mental  states,  or 
conscious  experience  in  some  form?  What  meaning  can 
be  given  to  the  qualities  of  matter  or  its  modes  of  action, 
which  does  not  either  reduce  them  to  mental  states,  or 
make  it  necessary  to  presuppose  mental  states  in  order  to 
make  qualities  and  actions  intelligible  ? 

But  to  these  difficulties  of  a  theoretical  character  must  be 
added  far  more  serious  difficulties.  These  are  the  practical 
consequences  which  it  is  held  strictly  follow  the  acceptance 
of  materiahsm.  Man  is  preeminently  a  practical  being; 
his  supreme  interests  lie  in  his  actions  and  their  con- 
sequences. His  feehngs,  his  purposes,  his  hopes,  and  aspira- 
tions are  really  significant  and  valuable  parts  of  himself. 
Now,  the  plain  consequence  of  this  fact  is,  that  no  philo- 
sophical theory  however  satisfying  to  merely  theoretic  inter- 
ests it  may  be,  will  seem  rational  if  it  leaves  this  major  part 
of  man's  nature  unsatisfied;  still  less  will  it  be  deemed  rational 
if  by  impHcation  it  deprives  these  supreme  interests  and 
values  of  objective  support.  Man's  ethical  and  rehgious 
valuations  and  ideals  are  interests  of  this  sort.  Now,  if  the 
real  world  is  such  as  to  deny  these  supreme  capacities  and 
demands  all  relevancy,  all  justification,  must  not  the  result 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  33 

be  disastrous  to  the  moral  life  and  to  religion  without  which 
man  would  hardly  be  man  ? 

In  the  real  world  of  the  materialist,_can  there  be  ethical 
values,  the  distinctions,  good,  evil^right,  wrong  ?  Can 
obligation,  responsibihty  for  conduct,  judgments  of  ^gret, 
remorse  for  wrong-doing,  approbation  for  right-doing — 
can  these  things  really  have  a  place?  Must  they  not  be 
relegated  to  the  sphere  of  illusions,  of  groundless  fancies, 
mistaken  judgments,  and  needless  fears  ? 

In  a  world  where  nothing  could  happen  but  what  does  \ 
happen;  in  which  no  action  could  be  other  than  it  is,  the    1 
conditions   are  wanting  on  which  morality  rests.     Unless    \ 
there  are  real  alternatives  presented  for  our  choice,  unless 
we  stand  before  possibilities  which  remain  open  until  our.  . 
own  act  has  made  one  of  them  actual,  while  the  others  are 
left  as  things  which  might  have  been,  our  action  is  not 
moral,     ^pw,  materialism  makes  truly  ethical  situations 
impossible;  it  does  so  by  eliminating  in  its  world  scheme 
alternative   possibilities.     In   its   world   everj^thing  is   pre-  \ 
^determined.     In  such  a  universe  there  are  no  moral  actions 
— only  blind  purposeless  actions  really  take  place  in  such  a 
world.     The  universe  of  materialism  can,  therefore,  know 
nothing  of  good  and  evil;  it  must  be  indifferent  to  all  that 
our  morality  signifies,  it  cannot  respect  moral  purposes  and 
ideals,  its  processes  can  have  no  relation  to  moral  ends. 
Thus,    are    the    consequences    of    materialism    absolutely 
subversive  of  morality;  and  morality  is  the  supreme  interest 
of  our  life. 

Now,  can  the  materialist  meet  this  difficulty  ?  If  he  is 
to  maintain  his  doctrine  he  must  show  that  the  facts  of 
ethical  experience  are  no   more  denied  or  their  meaning 


34  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

destroyed  than  are  the  facts  of  sensation,  perception, 
thinking,  feehng,  etc.  Our  moral  perceptions,  feelings, 
judgments,  and  actions  are  mental  states  distinguished 
from  others  by  certain  special  characteristics,  the  peculiar- 
ities of  these  mental  states  or  experiences  are  marked  by  the 
term  of  valuation,  good,  evil,  ought,  remorse,  etc.  These 
moral  valuations,  the  feeling  of  duty,  the  emotions  of 
remorse,  these  modes  of  our  experience  and  conduct,  the 
materialist  contends  remain  wholly  unaffected  by  any 
metaphysical  theory  whatsoever.  The  field  of  morality  is 
our  human  life;  this  life  in  no  wise  depends  for  its  meaning 
and  value  upon  what  may  be  the  nature  of  the  extra-human 
part  of  the  universe.  This  extra-human  universe  in  an 
ethical  respect  in  no  wise  concerns  us;  whether  it  is  good  or 
bad  in  no  wise  determines  whether  our  lives  shall  be  good 
or  bad.  Whether  there  is  a  Power  not  ourselves  which 
makes  for  righteousness,  or  in  the  other  direction  in  no 
wise  affects  the  meaning  or  validity  of  our  moral  distinctions. 
Our  actions  are  good  or  bad  according  as  they  are  adapted 
to  promote  or  to  affect  in  the  opposite  manner  human 
welfare.  Our  interest  in  human  well  being  is  the  sole 
ethical  motive. 

The  only  consequence,  says  the  materialist,  it  is  legitimate 
to  draw  from  materialism,  is  the  relatively  short  duration 
of  human  life;  the  life  of  the  individual  is  indeed  fleeting 
and  transitory;  but  the  life  of  the  species  is  of  possibly 
immense  duration;  and  morality  being  a  social  interest, 
the  importance  of  the  individual  is  his  contribution  to  the 
social  good;  his  immortality  is  his  influence  upon  the  lives 
of  those  who  come  after  him;  and  to  live  that  others  shall 
be  made  better  by  our  influence  is  certainly  a  high  ethical 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  35 

motive;  indeed  what  motive  can  be  worthier?  Of  course 
there  is  no  immortahty  for  the  race;  the  extinction  of 
human  existence  though  a  very  far  off  event,  appears  to  be 
the  destiny  that  awaits  us;  human  history  is  but  an  episode 
in  the  vaster  Hfe  of  the  cosmos.  Materiahsm  does  not 
permit  man  to  flatter  himself  that  he  is  the  heir  of  all  the 
ages,  or  that  his  destiny  is  the  goal  of  creation;  but  while 
he  is  here  he  can  give  to  his  life  a  supreme  value;  this 
valuation  is  true  for  him  while  he  lives,  and  it  is  quite  con- 
sistent with  the  fact  that  his  being  is  bound  up  with  material 
processes  and  relative  to  the  life  time  of  the  universe  is  of 
short  duration.  IJLj.s  not  in  length  of  days  that  the  true 
raeasure  of  man's  hfjg,J^  £QUBd>j3LiitJlL.the  meaning,  th^ 
value,  the  greatness,  of  the  actions,  passions  and  ideals 
that  fill  his  days;  and  which  animate  his  life.  A'joiHhjtJ 

Thus,  will  the  materialist  reply  to  the  charge  that  his 
doctrine  is  destructive  of  morality. 

Is  this  defense  of  his  doctrine  sound  ?  Some  will  say 
that  it  is  specious  only  and  when  more  deeply  scrutinized, 
is  seen  to  be  no  answer  to  the  ethical  objection  to  material- 
ism. Others  will  think  differently.  It  will  be  said,  a 
man  leads  an  immoral  life  not  because  he  has  first  accepted 
the  creed  of  materialism;  he  seeks  rather  in  materialism 
a  justification  of  his  abandonment  of  morahty.  A  man's 
philosophic  beliefs  grow  out  of  his  life.  They  have  their 
roots  in  his  inborn  proclivities,  in  his  acquired  tendencies 
to  this  rather  than  to  that  way  of  thinking  and  of  acting. 
It  is  the  man  who  determines  his  philosophy,  not  his 
philosophy  which  determines  his  life,  Fichte's  words  are 
true.  "The  sort  of  philosophy  a  man  has  depends  upon 
the  sort  of  man  he  is." 


36  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

To  this  may  not  the  rejecter  of  materialism  reply  ?  **Phi- 
losophy  and  life  react  upon  each  other;  and  if  both  are  taken 
seriously  they  must  eventually  be  brought  into  accordance. 
K  the  materialistic  philosopher  still  maintains  the  suprem- 
acy of  moral  values  he  does  so  against  the  tendency  of  his 
philosophy;  his  if e  is  better  than  his  creed.  If  the  moral 
order  is  no  deeper  fact  than  the  wills  of  his  human  fellows ; 
and  there  are  in  his  universe  no  higher  elements  than 
beings  like  himself,  can  he  justify  his  ethical  ideals,  his 
reverence  for  moral  law,  the  unconditional  claim  of  duty? 
Must  not  the  man  sooner  or  later  discover  this  discord 
between  his  moral  life  and  his  conception  of  the  basal 
reality  of  things;  and  if  he  thinks  to  the  end  of  the  matter, 
must  he  not  reach  the  conclusion,  that  ethics  must  seek 
justification  in  a  different  conception  of  the  world,  or  be 
abandoned  altogether  ?" 

I  have  presented  the  ethical  objection  to  the  doctrine 
of  materialism  and  the  materialist's  answer  to  this  objec- 
tion. It  is  better  I  think  that  the  student  should  here 
exercise  the  philosophic  mind,  which  gives  its  judgment 
only  when  the  evidence  is  all  in,  and  which  is  not  afraid  to 
suspend  judgment  when  it  cannot  clearly  decide. 

I  will  now  pass  to  the  other  part  of  the  practical  difficul- 
ties which  materialism  encounters,  the  consequences  of 
materialism  for  religion.  Whatever  else  religion  signifies, 
one  thing  is  of  Its  very  substance  and  cannot  therefore  be 
left  out,  the  destruction  of  which  is  the  destruction  of 
religion.  This  basis  of  religion  is  the  conviction  that  there 
is  some  ReaJLBeing  of  such  power  and  disposition  toward 
man,  that  man  can  entrust  to  this  Greater  Being  whatever 
is  most  precious  and  most  dear  to  him,  the  interests  of  his 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  37 

life  he  cannot  by  his  own  power  satisfy,  the  fulfillment  of 
his  wishes,  the  realization  of  his  aims,  the  maintenance  of 
his  life.  Religion,  to  the  religious  man,  is  no  merely  subjec- 
tive affair,  no  communion  between  man  and  his  better  self, 
no  projection  of  his  possible  self  as  an  ideal  object  of  wor- 
ship and  loyalty,  no  deification  of  man's  wants  and  wishes; 
it  is  of  the  essence  of  religious  belief  to  claim  objective 
reality  for  its  object.  The  moment  that  the  religious 
believer  is  convinced  that  this  object  has  not  the  existence 
and  character  he  has  conceived  it  to  possess,  that  moment 
his  religion  loses  its  vital  breath. 

Now  materialism  deprives  rehgion  of  this  objective  basis, 
and  by  so  doing,  takes  away  the  justification  of  religious 
faith.  A  man  can  be  moral  in  a  world  in  which  the  highest 
beings  are  himself  and  his  human  fellows;  for  morality  is 
essentially  a  relation  of  conduct  within  our  human  world; 
but  a  man  cannot  rationally  be  religious  in  the  universe  of 
the  materialist;  he  is  without  God  in  such  a  world.  Now, 
I  think  the  clear  thoughted  materialist  will  frankly  admit 
that  materialism  carries  these  consequences  for  religon. 
But  he  will  maintain  that  in  doing  so,  his  doctrine  does  not 
destroy  human  values;  it  only  shifts  their  locus  and  their 
relative  emphasis.  He  will  maintain  that  the  transforma- 
tion of  values,  the  shifting  of  human  interests  to  other  planes, 
the  change  of  direction  it  involves  of  human  actions  will 
leave  our  human  life  not  the  less  significant  or  the  poorer 
in  interests,  but  make  it  a  more  serious,  responsible,  and 
serviceable  thing  to  live.  Emancipated  from  superstitions, 
from  mystical  explanations,  from  useless  problems,  man 
can  give  himself  to  the  work  of  making  better  the  world  he 
knows,   and   which   he  can   change   by  his   action.     The 


38  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

riddles  of   his  destiny  will  be  dismissed;  the  fears  of  hell 
will  not  distress  him  to  no  ethical  purpose,  nor  the  dreams 
of  heaven  lure  his  mind  away  from  the  concerns  of  his 
present  life.     Man  will  concentrate  his  practical  thinking 
upon  the   problems,  the  task  of  making  the   life   of    the 
individual  and  the  common  life  the  better  for  every  man's 
personal  contribution.     Man  will  act  with  clear  visipa  lyi^-  ^ 
more  earnest  purpose  in  the  hving  present,  when  he  truly 
believes  "the  night  cometh  wherein  no  man  can  work." 
Nor  will  his  life  be  robbed  of  emotional  stimulus  and  the 
inspiration  of  ideals  and  hopes.     There  is  nature,  inimit- 
ably vast,  incomprehensibly  wonderful  and  beautiful  in  its 
ever  varied  forms.     Cosmic  emotion  will  take  the  place  of 
rehgious  emotion,  and  its  value  for  life  may  be  quite  as 
great.     The  enthusiasm  for  humanity  will  take  the  place 
of  rehgious  passions  that  have  been  quite  as  baneful  as 
beneficent   in   man's    history.     The   service   of    humanity 
under  the  inspiration  of  an  ideal  human  society  here  on 
the  earth,  will  be  no  poor  substitute  for  the  service  of  God, 
so  often  made  the  substitute  for  the  doing  of  duty  to  our 
fellow  men;  and  likewise  it  will  be  the  substitute  for  the 
anticipation  of  another  world,  so  often  making  us  willing 
to  let  wrongs  in  the  present  world  go  unredressed,  sorrows 
and  woes  unrelieved,  wants  and  misery  and  crime  unheeded. 
In   this  way  will  the  materialist,  while  admitting  the  dis- 
tinction of  what  is  properly  religion,  try  to  maintain  that 
our  human  life  would  not  lose  in  value,  when  once  this 
adjustment  to  the  new  conception  of  the  world  has  been 
made. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  39 

III.  IDEALISM 

We  pass  now  to  the  theory  of  reality  which  is  most  opposed 
to  the  theory  of  materiahsm,  ideahsm. 

7^  To  begin  with  the  general  doctrine.  The  fundamental 
proposition  of  the  idealist  is,  real  being  in  its  ultimate 
form  is  mental;  it  is  conscious  experience  in  some  form. 
Consequently,  what  we  ordinarily  take  to  be  material  being 
exists  only  as  phenomenal  manifestation  of  mental  being. 
The  proof  of  this  doctrine  is  the  following:  1.  This 
conception  of  real  being  results  from  a  consistent  attempt 
to  define  clearly  our  meaning  of  real  existence.  '*We  per- 
ceive," say  Bradley,  **that  to  be  real  or  even  barely  to  exist, 
must  be  to  fall  within  sentience.  Internal  experience 
is  reality,  and  what  is  not  this  is  not  reality.  Find  any  piece 
of  existence,  take  up  anything  that  anyone  could  possibly 
call  a  fact,  or  could  in  any  way  assert  to  have  being,  and 
then  judge  if  it  does  not  consist  of  sentient  experience. 
Try  to  discover  any  sense  in  which  you  could  continue  to 
speak  of  it,  when  all  perception  and  feeling  have  been 
removed.  When  the  experiment  is  made  steadily,  I  can 
myself  conceive  of  nothing  else  than  the  experience."  In 
the  same  strain  Royce  says,  *' Nothing  whatever  can  I  say 
about  my  world  yonder  that  I  do  not  express  in  terms  of 
mind.  What  things  are  as  extended,  moving,  colored, 
useful,  majestic,  etc.,  what  they  are  in  any  aspect  of  their 
nature,  all  this  must  mean  for  me  only  something  that  I 
can  express  in  the  fashion  of  an  idea.  It  Js  impossible 
to^define  a  material  being^ayejn  terms  which  presuppose 

'  mental  being.  Whatever  qualities  we  give  to  matter  imply 
a  relation  to  our  mental  experience.  Matter  is  unthinkable, 
undescribable    except    in    terms    which    connote    mental 


40  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

experience  of  some  sort.  If  there  is  real  being  which 
is  other  than  mental  the  nature  of  that  being  is  absolutely 
undefinable,  unthinkable." 

2.  The  same  conviction  concerning  the  nature  of  what  is 
red  results  when  we  examine  the  relation  of  the  idea  to  its 
object  in  thinking  and  knowing.  An  idea  which  can  be  true 
or  not  true  must  aim  at,  must  intend  to  be  true  of  that  object 
and  no  other  object.  Now,  in  order  to  mean  or  intend  any 
particular  object,  the  idea  and  its  object  cannot  be  foreign 
to  each  other;  the  relation  between  them  cannot  be  merely 
an  external  one;  it  must  be  internal  and  consequently  the 
object  which  the  idea  seeks  must  be  homogeneous  with 
itself.  Again,  if  we  examine  a  cognitive  idea,  i.e.,  an  idea 
which  seeks  truth,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  essentially  pur- 
posive, it  is  a  will-act  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  cognitive; 
hence  the  fundamental  relation  of  such  an  idea  to  its  object 
is  that  of  a  purpose  to  its  realization,  an  intent  to  its  fulfill- 
ment. The  object  in  its  nature,  therefore,  cannot  be  other 
than  the  idea;  it  can  only  be  rightly  defined  as  the  more 
complete  and  determinate  expression  or  embodiment  of  the 
idea  itself.  In  thinking  and  knowing  our  ideas  iiiit  seek 
their  own,  not  something  which  is  alien  to  their  nature.  If 
then  our  ideas  are  to  be  true,  and  we  are  to  possess  knowl- 
edge, their  objects  must  be  of  the  stuff  ideas  are  made  of; 
the  alternative  is  either  the  mindlike  nature  of  the  real 
world,  or  we  possess  no  knowledge  of  that  world;  in  other 
words  the  alternative  is  either  idealism  or  the  unknowable. 

Having  stated  the  general  doctrine  of  idealism  and  the 
proof  of  it,  I  will  next  proceed  to  a  somewhat  detailed 
exposition  of  two  typical  forms  in  which  this  doctrine  is 
held.     The  first  is  the  famous  doctrine  of  Bishop  Berkeley. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  41 

Berkeley's  idealism  is  of  the  simpler  type  and  is  set  forth 
in  the  two  writings,  Principles  of  the  Understanding  and 
the  Dialogue  between  Hylas  and  Philonous.  The  substance 
of  this  idealism  is  Berkeley's  explanation  of  the  external 
world.  Physical  reality  is  the  main  problem  for  idealism 
just  as  mind  is  the  crucial  problem  for  materialism. 

I  shall  therefore  present  an  idealistic  explanation  of  nature.; 
or  physical  reality  which  follows  closely  the  lines  of  Berkeley. 

Nature  presents  two  distinct  classes  of  facts:  (1)  indi- 
vidual objects  which  exist  in  space,  are  external  to  ourselves 
and  to  each  other,  which  we  believe  exist  when  no  mind 
perceives  them,  and  finally  which  are  relatively  permanent 
and  which  seem  to  act  in  various  ways  upon  each  other. 
(2)  Nature  as  our  science  conceives  it  is  a  system  of  causally 
connected  phenomena;  these  phenomena  in  their  ensemble, 
take  place  in  accordance  with  uniform  and  universal  laws. 
The  order  of  nature  appears  to  be  unchanging;  and  every 
change  within  nature  absolutely  predictable,  given  as  known 
its  antecedent  conditions. 

These  are  the  two  classes  of  facts  which  any  theory  of 
reahty  must  explain.  Now,  what  explanation  does  the 
ideahsm  of  Berkeley  give  of  these  facts  of  nature  ? 

To  begin  with  material  objects  and  our  perception  of 
them.  Let  me  suppose  I  am  now  perceiving  an  object,  say 
a  flower.  Here  are  two  questions:  (1)  Just  what"  is  it  I 
perceive  in  my  perceiving  this  flower  ?  (2)  In  what  consists 
this  perception  of  mine  ?  The  Berkeleyan  idealist  answers 
the  first  question  after  this  manner;  "The  flower  which  you 
perceive  is  not  something  which  exists  apart  from  and  inde- 
pendent of  your  experience  or  the  experience  of  some  other 
mind.     If  you  will  define  this  object  by  stating  each  one  of 


42  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

its  so-called  qualities,  you  will  find  your  definition  is  simply 
a  description  of  your  own  particular  experiences,  sensations, 
ideas,  etc.  Take  the  color  of  the  flower,  let  it  be  blue;  what 
do  you  know  of  this  blueness  of  the  flower,  but  just  this 
definite  sensation  experience  which  you  have  just  at  this 
time  ?  Take  the  form  of  the  flower;  what  is  your  knowledge 
of  that,  or  rather  what  is  that  form  as  known,  but  a  special 
mode  of  your  experiences,  an  order  of  your  sense  impres- 
sions? The  odor  of  the  flower,  can  you  find  anything  in 
that  which  is  not  another  special  sensation  ?  To  sum  up, 
can  you  find  in  this  flower  as  perceived  by  you  anything 
which  is  not  definable  in  terms  of  sensation,  or  idea,  or 
some  other  mode  of  your  experience,  actual  or  possible? 
Of  course  these  various  sensations  are  each  definite  in 
quality,  in  intensity,  and  they  coexist  in  a  definite  combi- 
nation or  complex,  so  that  you  can  describe  your  present 
perceptual  experience  by  the  statement :  I  have  here  and  now 
this  particular  complex  of  sensations,  ideas,  etc.  Now,  is 
it  not  a  true  statement  of  the  fact,  to  say  that  this  particular 
piece  of  the  external  world  named  flower,  proves  to  be 
nothing  other  than  the  stuff  ideas  are  made  of;  a  wholly 
mental  thing,  having  no  extra-mental  existence  whatever  ?  It 
exists  when  it  is  perceived  and  as  it  is  perceived;  indeed,  its 
esse  is  percipi."  But,  suppose  I  reply,  "This  flower  must  be 
something  other  than  a  mere  complex  of  sensation ;  for  you 
also  and  others  can  see  this  same  flower  at  the  same  time 
that  I  am  perceiving  it;  and  if  I  go  from  this  place,  when  I 
come  back  I  perceive  again  this  same  flower  in  a  perception 
that  is  numerically  distinct  from  the  first  perception.  This 
flower  did  not  begin  to  exist  when  I  began  to  perceive  it; 
nor  would  it  cease  to  exist  did  I  never  perceive  it  again. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  43 

Therefore,  this  flower  must  be  something  which  can  exist 
independently  of  my  perception  and  of  the  perception  of 
any  other  human  mind  at  least;  and  consequently  it  cannot 
be  truly  said  of  this  flower,  its  esse  is  percipi,''  To  this  our 
Berkeleyan  will  answer,  "You  are  right  in  your  contention 
that  there  is  something  more  involved  in  the  perceiving  of 
this  flower,  than  just  this  fact  of  your  having  this  par- 
ticular sensation-idea-complex  here  and  now.  There  is 
other  reality  than  the  flower- reahty;  but  this  other  reality 
is  not  some  part  of  the  flower,  some  substance  or  flower  in 
itself,  which  you  do  not  perceive.  You  do  perceive  all  the 
flower  object  there  is  to  be  perceived;  this  other  reality  is 
that  we  conceive  or  suppose  in  order  to  explain  your  present 
experience,  why  you  have  just  this  sort  of  experience  at  this 
particular  time.  This  other  reality  also  explains  your 
belief  that  other  minds  could  have  the  same  experience  were 
they  present,  and  that  this  flower  exists  when  you  do  not 
perceive  it,  and  your  belief  that  its  existence  is  not  dependent 
on  any  mind's  perception  of  it.  Now,  the  Berkeleyan 
continues,  "that  other  reality  I  call  God;  for  the  main  propo- 
sition of  my  idealism  is,  that  only  God  and  finite  minds 
exist  as  real  beings.  Accordingly,  my  theory  supposes 
that  God  as  the  Universal  World  Spirit  in  whom  we  live, 
move,  and  have  our  being  as  percipient  minds,  in  this 
present  instance,  of  your  perceiving  this  flower,  so  acts  upon 
your  mind  as  to  cause  you  to  have  just  this  definite  sort  of 
experience,  the  complex  of  sensations,  which  the  name  flower 
connotes.  We  can  say  that,  in  some  sense  of  the  term,  this 
flower  exists  for  the  Divine  Mind;  it  exists  there  as  an 
element  of  his  experience,  a  meaning  of  some  sort,  which 
is  embodied  in  your  perceptual  experience.     Thus  is  this 


14  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

particular  experience  of  yours  explained.  The  objective 
reality  of  it  is  this  special  form  of  the  Divine  action  upon 
your  mind.  We  do  not  need  to  suppose  a  flower  in  itself, 
existing  when  not  perceived,  a  something  we  know  not  what, 
called  material  substance;  on  the  contrary,  the  something 
here  supposed  is  conceived  after  the  analogy  of  our  own 
minds;  it  is  a  being  which  is  thinkable,  and  which  is  endowed 
with  powers  of  acting  analogous  to  the  powers  we  know 
in  ourselves.  You  are  right  in  your  conviction  that  your 
own  mind  is  not  the  cause  of  the  sensations  in  the  case  of 
this  flower.  You  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  the  cause 
of  your  experience  is  some  unperceived  essence  or  part- 
reality  of  the  flower  as  a  material  substance;  for  so  to 
interpret  your  experience  is  to  suppose  that  something  the 
nature  of  which  is  by  your  supposition  wholly  unlike  your 
own  mind,  is,  in  some  way,  acting  upon  your  mind.  Now 
why  should  you  assume  such  an  unknown  entity  instead  of  a 
Being  who  is  after  the  type  of  what  we  know  ?" 

But  how  will  our  Berkeleyan  explain  the  fact  that  other 
minds  perceive  the  same  flower  I  perceive.  Let  us  suppose 
that  a  hundred  minds  perceive  the  same  flower,  must  there 
not  exist  a  hundred  Berkeleyan  flowers  at  the  same  instant, 
and  all  these  flowers  scarcely  more  than  numerically  distinct  ? 
Instead  of  a  hundred  different  minds  perceiving  one  and  the 
same  flower,  there  must  be  according  to  the  Berkeleyan 
theory,  a  hundred  flowers  simultaneously  created — ^formed 
in  a  hundred  percipient  minds.  To  this  the  Berkeleyan 
will  reply,  *'This  fact  of  acquiring  perceptions  on  the  part 
of  a  hundred  minds  is  no  more  of  a  puzzle  upon  my  theory 
than  upon  the  theory  of  the  independently  existing  object. 
According  to  both  theories,  one  and  the  same  being  is  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  45 

cause  of  the  perceptive  experiences  of  these  hundred  minds. 
The  theory  of  duaHstic  reahsm  explains  this  fact  of  agreeing 
perceptions  by  the  action  of  a  material  object  upon  all  the 
minds;  while  my  theory  supposses  the  same  Divine  Mind 
acts  in  the  same  manner  upon  these  separate  minds." 

The  Berkeleyan  readily  admits  that  his  theory  does  not 
explain  how  these  one  hundred  minds  each  of  which  must  have 
his  own  experience  distinguishable  in  various  particulars 
from  the  experience  of  other  minds,  can  nevertheless  make 
their  experiences  mean  the  same  thing,  in  this  case  the  same 
flower;  but  he  contends  just  as  little  can  the  other  theory 
explain  this  fact;  for  the  mere  existence  of  a  single  flower 
does  not  explain  the  knowledge  of  this  object  by  these  minds. 
No,  the  problem  of  many  minds  having  a  common  object 
is  the  problem  of  social  consciousness;  and  can  be  explained 
only  when  we  understand  how  the  individual  comes  to  have 
a  social  consciousness;  the  solution  of  this  problem  falls  to 
Psychology.  But  suppose  I  object  to  the  Berkeleyan  theory, 
"  When  I  close  my  eyes  I  no  longer  see  the  flower,  when  I 
close  my  nose  I  do  not  smell  it,  when  I  turn  away  from  it, 
it  is  no  longer  my  object;  but  other  conditions  remaning 
unchanged,  I  know  that  should  I  return,  I  shall  again  have 
the  same  perceptive  experience.  Now  I  cannot  persuade 
myself  that  the  flower  has  ceased  to  exist  in  the  interval  of 
my  going  away  and  returning,  or  when  I  close  my  various 
senses.  My  behavior  in  closing,  etc.,  turning  around,  going 
away  and  returning,  seems  in  nowise  to  have  affected  this 
flower;  these  my  ways  of  treating  the  flower,  I  must  think 
are  quite  accidental  to  the  flower  which  continues  to  be 
beautiful  and  fragrant  during  all  my  changing  behaviors 
toward  it.     Is  it  not  absurd  to  suppose  this  flower  ceases 


46  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

to  exist  when  I  no  longer  perceive  it?  But  this  is  what 
I  your  theory  seems  to  require  me  to  do."  The  Berkeleyan 
idealist  meets  this  difficulty  in  the  following  way:  **Your 
belief  in  the  continued  existence  of  the  flower  when  you  do 
not  perceive  it,  has  its  psychological  origin  in  your  repeated 
experience,  that  under  the  same  conditions  the  same  ex- 
periences come  again.  The  time  was  when  you  believed 
that  the  sun  no  longer  existed  when  you  did  not  see  it. 
Apart  from  the  teaching  of  older  people,  your  belief  that 
objects  exist  when  not  perceived,  grew  out  of  your  experience 
of  having  the  same  perception  after  the  interruption  of 
the  course  of  your  experience.  The  root  of  your  belief  in 
the  continued  existence  of  objects  when  not  perceived,  was, 
then,  your  belief  that  you  would  have,  or  could  have  the 
same  perceptions  again.  Now,  you  have  come  to  justify 
this  belief  in  the  recurrence  of  the  same  perceptions  by  the 
additional  belief  in  a  continuously  existing  object;  this 
object  fills  the  gap  in  your  perceptions,  and  gives  the  desired 
continuity  to  experience.  Now,  in  the  place  of  your  con- 
tinuously existing  object — say  the  flower,  my  theory  puts 
the  ceaselessly  acting  Divine  Mind  or  World  Spirit;  who, 
'  in  accordance  with  his  world  plan,  we  may  suppose, 
always  excites  in  our  human  minds  the  same  perceptions 
under  the  same  conditions.  My  theory  therefore  explains 
and  justifies  your  belief  in  the  permanent  possibility  of 
*your  perception  of  the  flower.  Let  us  suppose,  if  you 
will,  that  all  human  minds  were  suddenly  to  vanish;  this 
flower  would  still  remain  in  the  sense  of  a  possible  per- 
ception; it  would  continue  to  exist  for  the  World  Mind  as 
I  an  element  of  meaning  in  his  World  Thought."  But  sup- 
pose I  continue,  "My  difficulties  are  by  no  means  at  an  end. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  47 

What  of  my  various  behaviors  in  the  presence  of  objects, 
the  actions  I  perform  upon  them,  their  actions  upon  me 
and  other  objects?  This  flower  I  perceive,  I  pluck  it, 
tear  apart  its  petals,  scatter  them  upon  the  ground.  I 
place  my  hand  against  a  stone,  it  resists  my  efforts  to  change 
its  position;  I  overcome  that  resistance  and  roll  it  down 
the  hillside;  or  a  stone  rolls  against  me  and  I  feel  pain. 
I  put  my  hand  into  a  flame,  it  is  burned.  Now,  if  ma- 
terial bodies  are  only  complexes  of  sensations  and  hence 
exist  only  in  our  minds,  how  explain  these  undeniable  facts 
of  experience?  Should  not  a  consistent  Berkeleyan  put 
his  hand  into  the  fire,  or  run  his  head  against  a  post,  or  dash 
his  foot  against  a  stone?"  The  Berkeleyan's  answer  is, 
"Human  minds  do  not  consist  of  sensations,  perceptions, 
or  ideas  merely;  nor  do  these  experiences  occur  in  isolation 
from  other  experiences,  the  contents  of  which  are  affections, 
emotions,  striving,  purposing,  choosing,  etc.  The  human 
spirit  is  a  being  w^hich  thinks,  feels,  and  acts.  That  part 
of  our  total  experience  we  call  sensations,  or  perceptions 
does  not  exist  apart  from  other  forms  of  experience,  especially 
the  affective  and  active  experiences  of  motion,  striving,  and 
willing;  each  perceptive  experience  is  interlinked  with 
various  other  states  and  activities  in  such  wise  that  some 
other  kinds  of  experience  may  precede  and  lead  to  a 
perceptive  experience.  Take  again  the  perception  of  the 
flower;  we  can  suppose  a  series  of  experiences  of  various 
sorts  came  before  this  particular  flower-perception  experi- 
ence, such  as  reading  a  book  in  your  study,  with  resulting 
fatigue,  or  restlessness,  or  dissatisfaction  with  your  present 
situation,  following  this,  a  purpose  to  go  out  for  a  walk, 
then   the   walking   experience,    various    motor   states    and 


48  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

accompanying  and  resulting  sensations,  feelings,  etc.,  till 
the  series  terminate  in  this  specifically  accentuated  experi- 
ence of  seeing  the  flower.  Now,  the  meaning  of  all  this 
is.  There  is  a  certain  order  or  context  in  which  each 
particular  experience  of  any  sort  always  occurs;  this  ex- 
perience is  always  preceded  by  something,  always  accom- 
panied by  something  and  always  followed  by  something. 
Now,  with  this  fact  in  mind,  cannot  you  see  a  ready  ex- 
planation of  the  facts  you  have  suggested  ?  Cannot  the 
entire  transaction,  with  the  stone  for  instance,  be  de- 
scribed in  terms  of  mental  experience  ?  What  more  is  this 
seeing,  grasping,  lifting,  and  roUing  a  stone  but  a  definite 
series  of  visual,  tactile,  motor  resistance,  strain,  sensation, 
experiences  with  accompaniments  of  other  experiences, 
partly  sensational,  partly  feeling,  partly  volitional  experi- 
ences ?  To  put  my  hand  in  the  flame,  is  to  have  a  definite 
series  of  sensations,  followed  by  motor  states,  these  by  a 
complex  of  sensations — perceptive  experience  in  which  a 
very  prominent  component  is  a  massive  pain-sensation- 
complex.'*  The  consistent  follower  of  Berkeley  will  no 
more  run  his  head  against  a  post,  or  dash  his  foot  against  a 
stone  than  would  the  staunchest  metaphysical  reahst;  and 
he  will  not  do  this,  for  the  same  reason  that  would  prevent 
the  latter  from  so  acting;  namely,  the  undesirable  kind  of 
experience  which  he  knows  would  follow  his  action;  he  has 
learned  the  nature  of  these  consequences  in  precisely  the 
same  way  as  the  realist  has  learned  them,  namely,  by 
experience,  either  his  own  or  that  of  others  communicated 
to  himself.  In  this  way  does  our  Berkeleyan  explain  the 
various  experiences  of  action,  and  our  various  transactions 
with  so-called  material  things.     But  bodies  act  upon  each 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  49 

other,  they  change  each  other's  condition  or  status.  Two 
billiard  balls  meet  and  the  result  is  a  change  in  the  direction 
of  motion;  a  blow  with  a  hammer  breaks  a  stone,  changes  the 
shape  of  a  piece  of  metal;  a  flame  melts  a  piece  of  wax,  or 
changes  water  into  steam.  How  explain  such  phenomena, 
unless  there  are  actual  existing  material  bodies,  capable  of 
dynamic  transactions  ?  But  here  again  as  in  the  other  sup- 
posed cases,  the  anti-Berkeleyan  will  find  he  cannot  describe 
facts  in  other  terms  than  those  in  w^hich  the  idealist  describes 
them.  He  differs  from  the  idealist  solely  in  his  interpre- 
tation of  these  experiences.  Must  he  not  admit  that  in  their 
explanations,  the  Berkeley  an  keeps  closer  to  the  actual  facts 
of  experience?  For  he  supposes  but  one  operative  Being; 
and  he  conceives  the  nature  of  that  being  in  terms  of  a 
reality  he  already  knows,  namely,  conscious  mind,  funda- 
mentally like  his  own  mind.  The  realist  on  the  other  hand 
must  admit  that  he  has  no  positive  knowledge  of  non- 
mental  being.  And  consequently,  in  the  last  analysis,  his 
theory  is  an  explanation  of  the  known  by  means  of  the 
unknown. 

But  once  more,  what  can  the  Berkeleyan  make  of  our 
human  bodies  and  the  connection  between  the  body  and  the 
mind  ?  To  be  specific,  how  will  the  Berkeleyan  answer  the 
following  questions:  1.  How  can  I  distinguish  my  body 
from  my  mind  ?  2.  How  can  I  distinguish  my  body  from 
the  body  of  my  fellow  ?  3.  How  do  I  know  the  mind  of  my 
human  fellow.?  4.  Were  my  mind  to  cease  what  would 
become  of  my  body  ?  Our  Berkeleyan  idealist  has  a  ready 
answer  and  it  seems  to  him  a  sufficient  answer  to  these 
questions.  **As  to  the  body,"  he  answers,  *'My  body,  as 
an  object  merely,  differs  in  no  respect  from  other  objects; 


50  THE  PROBLEM  OP  REALITY 

the  sole  circumstance  which  constitutes  its  pecuHarity,  is 
its  functional  significance;  my  body  is  a  manifestation  of  my 
mind  to  other  minds;  it  is  a  medium  of  intercommunication 
with  the  minds  of  my  human  fellows^  Now  this  function 
of  manifestation  and  social  communication  is  made  possible 
by  the  circumstance,  that  the  body  of  each  individual  is 
more  intimately  connected  with  his  own  mind  than  is  any 
other  object.  It  is  owing  to  this  intimacy  of  connection 
between  what  I  call  my  body  and  my  deeper,  more  interior 
self,  that  my  body  can  be  the  revealer  of  myself  to  my 
human  fellow,  and  his  body  be  a  manifestation  to  me. 
And  it  is  also  this  more  intimate  connection  between  my 
own  body  and  my  mind,  which  enables  me  to  distinguish  my 
body  from  objects  which  are  not  bodies,  and  also  from 
the  body  of  my  social  fellow. 

**And  this  gives  the  answer  to  the  second  question.  I 
am  able  to  distinguish  between  my  body  and  your  body, 
because  the  perceptions  which  mean  my  body  are  more 
intimately  connected  with  my  interior  life  than  are  the  per- 
ceptions which  mean  your  body. 

**And  this  leads  to  the  answer  to  the  next  question.  How 
do  I  know  your  mind?  This  same  connection  between 
each  one's  body  and  his  mind  makes  it  possible  for  my  body 
on  the  one  side,  and  your  body  on  the  other  side,  to  constitute 
a  medium  or  sign  language  for  communication  between  our 
minds;  the  various  actions,  expressive  movements,  speech, 
gestures,  etc.,  are  a  language  essentially  of  symbols,  by  means 
of  which  I  am  able  to  know  your  mind,  and  you  to  know 
my  mind.  This  will  become  perfectly  clear  if  we  analyze 
the  fact  of  social  communication.  In  my  perceptive 
experience  there  occur  two  closely  resembling  complexes  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  51 

sensations,  perceptions,  etc.;  the  one  of  these  complexes 
stands  for  my  body,  the  other  for  the  body  of  my  neighbor; 
my  own  body  complex  has  as  its  correlate  certain  ideas, 
feelings,  purposes,  etc.;  the  complex  which  means  my 
neighbor's  body  is  made  up  of  elements  which  very  closely 
resemble  those  which  constitute  my  own  body;  I  therefore 
project  as  it  were,  behind  my  neighbor's  body,  mental 
states,  and  experiences  of  the  same  sort  as  those  which  are 
connected  with  my  own  body;  my  neighbor's  mind  is  thus 
an  object  which  I  am  led  to  make  on  the  basis  of  my  experi- 
ence, and  which  I  have  so  repeatedly  and  in  so  many  ways 
verified,  that  I  have  come  to  be  as  certain  of  his  mind  as  I  am 
of  my  own  mind." 

To  the  last  question,  "Were  my  mind  to  cease  what 
would  become  of  my  body?"  the  idealist's  answer  is; 
**Your  body  would  for  the  time  at  least,  continue  to  exist 
as  other  objects  exist  for  other  minds;  and  did  it  undergo 
certain  changes,  that  fact  would  indicate  to  these  minds, 
that  your  mind  had  ceased  to  have  connection  with  that 
group  of  perceptions  which  means  your  body." 

Such  is  the  Berkeleyan  idealist's  explanation  of  the 
individual  objects  which  constitute  the  external  world  or 
nature. 

We  will  follow  him  next  in  his  solution  of  the  second 
problem  of  physical  reality — the  problem  of  the  universe  as 
Science  knows  and  conceives  it.  To  begin  with  the  first 
great  feature  of  our  universe,  order,  uniformity,  and  causal 
connection.  Reflection  leads  to  the  conviction  that  this 
uniformity  and  causal  connection  are  the  foundation  stones 
on  which  rest  both  the  splendid  structure  of  scientific 
knowledge,  and  our  practical  knowledge  and  control  of 


52  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

nature  in  the  service  of  life.  Nature  thus  presents  the 
character  of  unchanging  law,  of  mechanical  necessity. 
This  behavior  of  the  physical  universe  is  in  every  particular 
the  opposite  of  that  which  we  are  accustomed  to  associate 
with  mind,  and  points  rather  to  non-mental  beings  which 
are  the  basis  of  this  non-mind-like  behavior,  so  alien  to  our 
minds,  so  indifferent  to  our  human  interests,  so  baffling  to 
our  efforts  to  find  in  it  the  evidence  of  a  mind  like  our  own. 
In  meeting  the  objection  to  his  doctrine  which  this  seeming 
unmind-like  character  of  nature  presents,  the  Berkeleyan 
in  the  first  place,  will  remind  us  that  undeviating  regularity 
and  mechanical  connection  are  not  known  to  be  absolute 
features  of  the  world  structure.  All  that  physical  science 
has  verified  are  certain  routines  in  the  occurrence  of  events, 
in  the  phenomenal  happenings  of  nature.  And  this  routine 
^  character  of  our  experiences  represents  at  most  but  a  frag- 
ment of  the  w^hole;  it  is  a  selection  out  of  a  vastly  more 
extended  realm  in  which,  could  it  be  seen  in  its  entirety,  no 
such  dead  uniformity  and  mindless  mechanism  would 
appear.  But,  again,  is  it  not  the  aims  of  our  science,  the 
needs  of  our  rational  action  in  the  world  which  impel  us  to 
seek  for  just  this  constancy  of  behavior,  this  universality 
of  law  in  our  world;  and  even  to  postulate  this  character 
of  the  world  beyond  the  limits  of  what  our  own  experience 
verifies  ?  Nature  seems  to  respond  to  distinctive  mental 
needs  and  to  deal  with  us  in  a  mind-like  way ;  and  this  fact 
indicates  that  the  sub-structure  of  the  empirical  universe 
is  after  all  a  mind-like  being.  The  Berkeleyan  idealist  can 
go  farther  and  challenge  the  assumption  that  the  uniformity 
immutability,  and  the  undeviating  order  of  the  world  are 
marks  of  non-mental  being.     Mutability,  irregularity,  in- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  53 

stability  are  the  accidents  of  mental  being,  due  to  its  finite 
and  conditioned  existence,  its  limited  knowledge,  its  defects 
of  will.     The  mind  which  knows  all,  and  possesses  all  power  i 
and   is   perfectly  good,  need   present   no   variableness,   no    .' 

-  i 

shadow  of  turning.  Even  within  our  human  world  there  f 
are  such  things  as  unchanging  ideas,  stable  purposes 
decisions  that  remain  fixed,  loves  that  ar.e  as  constant  as  the 
stars,  hates  that  never  die,  and  decisions  that  are  irrevocable. 
Now  the  World-Mind  which  this  theory  supposes,  is  too  wise 
to  need  to  alter  his  plans,  too  powerful  to  be  successfully  op- 
posed, too  good  to  change  his  purposes.  And  this  World- 
Spirit,  acting  in  accordance  with  his  world  plan,  affects  our 
minds  with  just  that  measure  of  uniformity  and  undeviating 
order  which  we  verify  in  these  experiences  we  call  nature. 
Uniformity  of  nature,  causal  connection,  are  the  divinely 
ordered  course  of  one's  experience.  The  basal  reality 
of  nature  is  the  constant  will  of  the  World-Spirit.  ^ 

There  are  two  other  features  of  the  scientific  conception 
of  nature  which  offer  more  serious  difficulties  for  Berkeleyan 
idealism:  (1)  The  conception  of  cosmic  beings  and  cosmic 
processes  in  time  before  the  appearance  of  our  human  minds 
and  in  regions  of  space  where  they  do  not  exist;  and  (2)  the 
conception  of  evolution.  Our  world  is  a  world  still  in  the 
making;  it  has  had  a  very  long  history,  its  future  is  possibly 
endless.  It  is  not,  however,  this  long  time  the  world  has 
lasted  or  will  last;  it  is  rather  the  fact  of  an  incessant,  con- 
tinuous change  and  continuity  of  process  which  creates  the 
problem  for  the  Berkeleyan  idealist.  The  world  process  is 
one  of  evolution;  and  the  long  chapter  of  cosmic  history 
which  science  constructs,  is  filled  with  events,  with  the  play  of 
stupendous  forces,  with  momentous  changes,  with  evolution 


54  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

processes,  all  of  which  were  finished  before  the  advent  of 
our  human  consciousness;  and  science  conceives  of  like 
processes  of  evolution  now  going  on  in  regions  where  there 
are  no  human  percipients.  More  than  this,  fossil  remains 
of  plants  and  animals  force  us  to  assume  the  existence  of 
species  which  are  now  extinct,  but  which  are  the  ancestors 
of  existing  species.  The  geologic  record  seems  to  make  in- 
evitable the  induction  that  organic  nature  at  least  has  an 
existence  which  is  other  than  mere  ideas,  and  merely  possible 
perceptions.  Now,  the  Berkeleyan  philosopher  must  main- 
tain that  this  evolving  cosmos,  these  objects  of  scientific 
imagination  are  real  in  no  other  sense  than  is  the  flower  in 
our  first  illustration,  or  the  star  we  think  of  as  shining  millions  , 
of  years  before  any  human  mind  existed.  By  an  imagined,^ 
extension  of  our  possible  experience  backward  to  the  begin- 
ning and  into  the  vast  stellar  regions,  all  that  our  science 
pictures  would  have  been  actual  perceptions.  For  the 
world  is  as  old  as  the  world  of  evolution;  and  had  we  been 
there,  the  first  stages  of  this  ideal  evolution  would  have  been 
embodied  in  our  concrete  experience.  The  primeval  ocean, 
the  first  land,  the  formation  of  the  rock  masses,  the  eleva- 
\  tion  of  the  mountain  chains,  Pterodactyls,  Ichthyosaurus, 
Megatherium,  Mastodon,  etc.,  would  have  existed  for  us 
just  as  the  flower,  the  star  of  our  present  perception.  For 
the  world  mind  has  the  world  plan  complete  in  all  its 
details.  This  plan  includes,  therefore,  as  possible  percep- 
tions, just  these  objects  and  cosmic  events  which  our 
science  describes;  the  Megatherium,  the  Mastodon  which 
the  palaeontologist  constructs  from  data  of  present  ex- 
perience, are  the  objects  we  would  perceive  could  we  go 
back  in  the  time  order  of  experience  to  the  point  in  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  55 

development  of  the  World-mind's  plan  where  such  beings 
belong. 

In  this  way  does  the  Berkeleyan  idealist  explain  the  world 
of  science. 

Now,  what  shall  be  said  of  this  theory  as  a  whole  ?  It  has 
been  said  of  it,  '*This  is  a  theory  no  one  can  disprove,  but 
it  is  also  a  theory  no  one  can  really  believe."  The  theory  will 
always  be  incredible  to  the  plain  man  and  to  the  so-called 
common  sense  philosopher.  It  runs  so  counter  to  strong 
reahstic  prejudice.  To  resolve  that  most  indubitable  reality, 
matter  into  mere  perceptions,  is  for  these  minds,  to  turn  the 
external  w^orld  into  a  phantasmagoria.  It  would  be  about 
as  easy  to  persuade  the  realistic  mind,  that  after  all,  we  are 
all  dreamers,  and  our  external  world  is  veritably  the  stuff 
dreams  are  made  of,  as  to  lead  this  mind  to  accept  the 
Berkeleyan  idealism. 

Another  circumstance  tends  to  make  this  theory  incredible. 
It  is  the  embarrassment  it  occasions  when  we  try  to  translate 
the  ordinary,  the  everyday  sense  experiences  into  terms  of 
this  idealism;  and  this  embarrassment  only  increases  when 
we  attempt  to  interpret  the  scientific  doctrine  of  the  universe 
in  terms  of  this  theory.  The  geologic  past,  the  regions 
where  no  percipient  minds  exist,  the  transactions  between 
things  which  we  are  constrained  to  regard  as  independent 
of  our  minds.  Let  anyone  try  to  make  these  facts  intelli- 
gible or  realizable  in  the  Berkeleyan  theory  of  nature,  and  he 
will  appreciate  the  strength  of  the  prejudice  which  our 
familiarity  with  scientific  conceptions  has  fostered. 
Any  theory  will  seem  irrational  if  it  thwarts  or  obstructs 
that  easy  and  smooth  flow  of  our  ideas,  that  harmony  with 


56  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

the  obvious  facts  of  experience,  which  we  are  wont  to  regard 
as  the  mark  of  rationaHty. 

Still  another  circumstance  tends  to  make  the  Berkeleyan 
idealism  unacceptable.  If,  as  this  doctrine  teaches,  God  is 
the  immediate  cause  of  every  perception  in  every  individual 
mind,  he  must  cause  at  one  and  the  same  instant,  contra- 
dictory perceptions;  for  such  contradictory  perceptions  do 
undeniable  exist,  and  unless  a  greater  degree  of  spontaneity 
is  to  be  attributed  to  our  human  minds,  than  this  theory 
seems  to  assume,  the  sources  of  these  contradictory  per- 
ceptions must  be  God.  And  finally  as  Descartes  pointed 
out,  does  not  this  theory  attribute  to  God  systematic 
deception  in  causing  our  perceptions  in  such  a  way  that  we 
irresistably  refer  them  to  external  objects  ?  Only  the  phi- 
losopher is  able  and  to  emancipate  his  mind  from  this  false 
impression;  the  common  mind  remains  the  victim  of  per- 
sistent illusion.  Surely,  if  Berkeley's  God  intends  to  lead 
our  thoughts  to  him,  he  takes  a  strange  way  to  effect  his 
end. 

The  second  type  of  idealism  to  which  we  will  now  turn, 
avoids,  it  is  maintained,  these  difficulties  which  make  the 
Berkeleyan  explanation  of  pur  external  world  incredible. 
I  will  first  state  the  explanation  of  nature-reality,  which  is 
found  in  Professor  Royce's  remarkable  book,  The  World 
and  the  Individual,  Volume  II. 

In  nature,  we  are  not  deahng  with  non-mental,  uncon- 
scious beings,  but  with  phenomenal  signs  of  vast  conscious 
processes,  a  vast  realm  of  finite  consciousness;  a  mental  life 
wherein  ideals  are  sought,  goals  won.  "The  finite  experience 
which  is  the  reality  of  inorganic  nature,  is  one  of  an  extremely 
august  temporal  span,  so  that  what  we  take  to  be  a  material 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  57 

region,  say  a  nebular,  is  the  phenomenal  sign  of  the  presence 
at  least  of  one  fellow  creature  who  requires  perhaps  a 
billion  years  to  complete  a  movement  of  his  consciousness, 
so  that  where  we  see  in  the  signs  given  us  only  momentous 
permanence  of  fact,  he  in  his  inner  life  is  facing  momentarily 
significant  changes."  The  phenomena  of  these  minds  may 
sustain  the  same  kind  of  relation  to  these  cosmic  minds  that 
our  bodies  sustain  to  our  minds;  they  differ  so  widely  from  ^ 
the  bodies  of  our  human  fellows,  that  we  cannot  by  means  of 
them  derive  the  mental  processes  they  signify  as  we  do  in 
the  case  of  the  bodies  of  our  human  fellows.  The  nature 
minds,  therefore,  are  non-communicative;  but  we  cannot 
infer  from  that  fact  that  they  are  not  in  significance,  or 
rationality  or  dignity  equal  or  even  far  superior  to  our 
human  minds. 

The  significant  features  of  this  idealistic  theory  of  nature 
can  be  best  brought  out  by  comparing  it  with  the  Berkeleyan 
theory.     The  points  of  difference  are  the  following:     (1) 
Nature-objects  in  Berkeley's  doctrine  are  perceptions  in  our 
minds;  as  objects  they  have  subjective  existence  only.     In 
the    Roycean    theory,  nature  objects,  it  is  claimed,  have 
objective  existence  as  truly  as  do  minds  of  our  fellow  men. 
(2)  In   the   Berkeleyan  world,   objects  of  perception  exist 
only  when  perceived;  in  the  world  of   Roycean  idealism, 
these  cosmic  objects,  it  is  maintained,  exist  when  no  human   / 
mind  perceives  them.     (3)  In  Berkeley's  doctrine,  the  order 
of  nature  exists  in  the  divine  mind;  it  is  but  the  constant 
and  uniform  manner  in  which  this  mind  affects  our  minds. 
In  the  Roycean  idealism,  the  order  of  nature  has  an  exist-   V 
ence    objective    to    our    minds.     (4)    Material    objects  in 
Berkeley's  theory  are  really  illusions  or  hallucinations;  in 


58  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

I  the  idealism  of  Royce  our  perceptions  have  an  objective 
basis  which  corresponds  to  them. 

This  theory  does  seem  to  have  decided  advantages  over 
the  theory  of  Berkeley,  and  to  give  a  more  credible  explana- 
tion of  the  external  world.  But,  on  more  critical  examina- 
tion, does  it  not  encounter  difficulties  which  are  hardly  less 
serious  than  these  which  make  it  so  hard  to  accept  Berkeley's 
doctrine  ?  For  instance,  what  sort  of  an  existence  is  to  be 
attributed  to  such  objects  as  the  sun,  planetary  bodies,  the 
stars,  etc  ?  We  are  told  that  these  are  phenomenal  signs  of 
mental  processes.     These  processes  must,  therefore,   con- 

f  stitute  the  cosmic  realities  themselves.  But  do  the  objects 
of  our  perceptions  exist  anywhere  save  in  our  minds  ?  Are 
these  objects  anything  more  than  complexes  of  sensations, 
ideas,  etc.?  In  short,  are  they  not  just  what  objects  in 
Berkeley's  Idealism  are  ?  To  say  they  are  phenomenal  signs 
of  something  else,  is  only  to  designate  their  function.  In 
Berkeley's  scheme,  objects  are  phenomenal  signs  of  ideas, 
intentions,  and  rules  of  action  in  the  Divine  Mind.  Indeed  it 
is  expressly  Berkeley's  teaching,  that  nature  the  visible 
universe  is  a  vast  sign  language  through  which  the  world 
spirit  communicates  with  our  spirits.  Now,  will  the 
Roycean  Idealist  say,  "The  star  I  perceive  exists  independ- 
ently of  my  perception  and  is  the  excitant  or  generator  of 
that  perception  ?"  Must  he  not  admit  that  the  star  as 
object,  is  a  certain  definite  complex  of  present  and  associated 
sensations,  ideas,  etc.,  an  experience  content  of  some  sort? 
If  so,  then  the  question  which  next  faces  him  is.  What  is 
the  source,  the  stimulus  of  this  experience  which  occurs 
just  at  this  moment  ?  Must  he  not  find  it  in  some  deeper, 
unrecognized  part  of  what  I  call  myself,  or  in  that  other 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  59 

finite  consciousness  or  mental  being  of  whose  existence,  the 
star  is  said  to  be  the  phenomenal  sign  ?  If  it  is  the  present 
existence  of  that  other  finite  consciousness  which  explains 
my  present  star-perception,  must  w^e  not  attribute  to  thai 
cosmic  mind  the  same  function  which  Berkeley  assigned  to 
his  one  Worid  Spirit,  namely  of  being  the  cause,  the  exciter 
of  our  perceptions  ?  And  if  so,  then  in  this  scheme,  do  the 
objects  of  the  external  world  have  any  actual  existence 
when  they  are  not  being  perceived  by  human  minds  ?  And 
if  this  question  must  be  answered  in  the  negative,  we  must 
ask,  does  not  this  theory  leave  the  problem  of  nature,  its 
unity,  its  uniformity,  its  temporal  development,  etc.,  just 
where  the  Berkeleyan  idealism  leaves  it  ?  The  geologic 
past,  the  vast  realms  of  extra-human  experience — do  these 
have  for  our  minds  any  different  kinds  of  existence  or  meaning 
than  they  have  in  the  Berkeleyan  scheme  which  gave  us 
such  difficulties  at  these  points  ?  Of  course,  the  Roycean 
idealist's  answer  can  be.  Since  in  the  case  of  such  cosmic 
objects  or  nebulae,  suns,  planets,  etc.,  finite  minds  of  a  type 
other  than  our  minds,  are  the  reality  itself,  and  these  mental 
processes  exist  independently  of  our  minds,  what  appear 
as  external  objects  and  the  physical  universe  which  our 
science  constructs,  being  the  phenomena  of  these  minds 
have  an  objective  existence,  and  therefore  an  existence 
when  not  perceived  by  our  human  minds.  But  does 
not  this  idealism  admit  that  what  we  take  to  be  material 
nature  differs  profoundly  from  these  mental  processes 
themselves;  and  that  the  physical  object  which  we  per- 
ceive and  which  science  constructs  give  only  vague  hints 
and  fragmentary  suggestions  of  what  is  going  on  in  other 
cosmic  minds  ?     Now  if  this  is  so,  does  material  nature  as 


60  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

we  perceive  it,  and  as  our  human  science  conceives  it  have 
any  other  existence  than  as  actual  and  possible,  conceivable 
processes  in  our  human  minds  ?  If  as  the  theory  holds, 
nature  objects  are  phenomenal  signs  of  mental  processes,  the 
existence  of  our  human  minds  is  as  indispensable  to  their 
meaning  and  function  as  such  phenomenal  signs,  as  are  the 
cosmic  minds  of  which  they  are  supposed  to  aflFord  us 
indications.  It  would  seem  then,  in  the  absence  of  our 
human  minds,  we  can  no  more  say  what  material  nature 
is  or  would  be,  than  we  can  say  what  Berkeley's  external 
world  is  or  would  be  in  the  absence  of  these  same  minds. 
May  we  not  conclude  that  the  difference  between  the 
Roycean  theory  of  nature  and  the  Berkeleyan  theory  reduces 
itself  to  this  one  circumstance,  namely,  in  the  Roycean 
Idealism,  the  many  finite  minds  take  the  place  of  the  one 
mind  in  the  Berkeleyan  theory  ? 

Of  course  the  idealism  of  Royce  conceives  the  relation  of 
the  Divine  as  the  world-mind  to  our  finite  minds  in  quite  a 
different  way  from  the  conception  we  have  in  Berkeley's 
doctrine;  and  the  nature  of  these  other  finite  minds,  their 
relation  to  our  minds  and  to  the  one  mind,  is  a  problem 
which  hardly  exists  in  the  more  naive  idealism  of  Berkeley. 
But  in  the  matter  of  our  external  world,  or  material 
nature  the  Roycean  idealist  may  be  fairly  challenged  to 
show  how  his  doctrine  really  escapes  the  difficulties  and 
objections  we  encountered  in  our  examination  of  the 
Berkeleyan  idealism. 

IV.  CRITICAL  OR  AGNOSTIC  MONISM       ^ 

Both  the  theories  we  have  examined  assume  that  real 
being  is  either  material  or  mental;  but  may  it  not  be  that  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  61 

nature  of  ultimate  being  is  a  problem  which  transcends  our 
human  minds  ?     May  there  not  be  a  type  of  being  which  is 
neither  what  we  know  as  mind  nor  as  matter  but  (to  borrow 
a  term  from  Hoffding),  the  tap  root  of  both?     This  is  the 
standpoint  of  those  thinkers  who  call  themselves  critical,  or 
more    commonly  agnostic    monists.     The    theory   is,  that 
ultimate  being  in  its  own  nature  is  neither  material  nor 
mental,  but  a  kind  of  being  the  nature  of  which  we  cannot 
define,  but  which  we  may  believe  is  the  basal  reality  of  both 
matter  and  mind;  the  unity  of  both,  the  tap  root  from  which 
spring  these  two  forms  of  being  we  know  as  mind  and 
matter.     The  proof  of  this  theory  is  the  following:     (1) 
Both  matter  and  mind  as  they  exist  in  our  experience  are 
equally  real;  neither  can  be  reduced  to  terms  of  the  other. 
We  cannot  explain  mind  in  terms  of  matter;  we  can  as  Httle 
explain  matter  in  terms  of  mind.     Taken  in  their  phenom- 
enal  aspects,  mind  and   matter  are  as  unhke  as  duahsm 
maintains.     But    the    intimate    connection    which    exists 
between  these  forms  of  reahty,  for  instance  in  the  case  of  one 
human   mind   and   body  existence,  makes  it  highly  prob- 
able to  suppose  that  this  duahty  is  deeper  than  phenomenal; 
consequently  we  are  forced  to  the  view  Avhich  regards  both 
what  we  empirically  know  as  mind  and  what  we  know  as 
matter,  as  the  manifestations  of  a  real  being  which  under- 
Hes   both.      (2)    To  postulate   a  basal  reality  of  this  sort, 
while   at  the   same  time   we  confess  our  ignorance  of  its 
nature,  is  no  inconsistency  as  the  opponents  of  this  theory 
usually  assert;  for  it  is  surely  conceivable,  that  the  nature 
of   a   being    should  remain  undetermined  despite  the  fact 
that  in  certain,  to  us  inexphcable  ways,  it  is  the  ground  of 
our  perceptive   experience,    and    the    basal   reality  which 


62  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

i  science  postulates.  Nor  do  we  need  to  conceive  this  ulti- 
I  mate  being  in  more  definite  terms.  The  function  we  assign 
to  it  in  explaining  the  external  world  of  perception  calls  for 
no  more  definite  conception.  To  be  the  permanent  possi- 
bility of  our  perceptions,  to  be  the  basis  of  common  percep- 
tions, to  make  social  experience  possible  is  the  function  of 
I  this  underlying  real  being,  and  thus  its  functional  signifi- 
cance to  some  extent  defines  its  nature. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  PROBLEM  OF  THE  ONE  AND  THE  MANY 

Our  next  stage  in  philosophical  thinking  will  be  occupied 
with  a  problem  somewhat  closely  related  to  the  one  we  have 
just  completed;  but  which  has  to  do  with  a  diflFerent  aspect 
of  the  real  world.  That  feature  is  the  concurrence  in  our 
world  of  plurality  and  unity,  manyness  and  oneness. 

The  world  of  our  experience  is  a  world  of  many  beings, 
each  showing  independence  and  at  the  same  time  all  inter- 
related, interdependent.  Of  this  world  of  our  experience, 
we  say  it  is  constituted  of  many  real  beings.  But  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  world  in  terms  of  many  beings  is  incomplete; 
our  world  is  one  which  possesses  unity;  plurality  does  not 
adequately  describe  it;  oneness  is  as  indubitable  a  feature 
of  our  world  as  is  its  manyness.  Now,  the  problem  for 
philosophical  thinking  is,  what  are  these  two  facts  and 
how  are  they  to  be  connected  in  a  coherent  and  satisfactory 
world  view  ?  It  is  the  old  problem  of  the  one  and  the  many 
which  presents  itself.  Is  the  world  in  its  ultimate  constitu- 
tion a  plurality  of  independently  existing  beings,  or  is  the 
basal  reality  of  the  world  a  numerically  one-being,  and  con- 
sequently the  many  beings  of  our  experience  are  in  their  '^ 
reality,  in  their  essence,  only  phenomena  or  appearances  of 
this  one  and  only  truly  real  being  .^  Or,  is  a  third  view 
possible,  which  will  preserve  real  being  in  the  many  and  .^-^ 
at  the  same  time  make  the  one  a  real  being  and  also  original 

in  its  relation  to  the  many  ? 

63 


64  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

In  this  statement  of  our  problem  we  have  indicated  three 
distinct  doctrines.  Let  us  formulate  them  in  more  exact 
terms. 

1.  The  Doctrine  of  Monism. — This  doctrine  asserts  that 
original  fundamental  being  is  one.  The  many  beings  in 
our  world  of  experience  absolutely  depend  upon  this  One- 
Being  for  their  natures,  their  actions,  their  experiences. 
Regarded  in  their  essential  meaning  they  are  the  modal 
or  the  phenomenal  appearances  of  the  one. 

2.  The  Doctrine  of  Pluralism. — This  doctrine  maintains 
against  monism,  that  it  is  the  many  beings  which  are  real, 
each  in  its  own  right,  each  independent  of  other  beings. 
These  many  beings  are  the  fundamental  reality  of  the  world. 
The  oneness  of  the  world  is  the  character  of  the  world  which 
is  due  to  the  unity  of  aim,  the  harmony  of  activities  which 
characterize  the  many. 

3.  The  Doctrine  of  Pluralistic  Monism. — ^This  doctrine 
seeks  a  via  media  between  the  opposing  doctrines  of  monism 
and  pluralism.  With  monism,  it  asserts  the  real  being  of 
the  One;  and  it  conceives  this  being  in  one  sense  as  absolute. 
With  pluralism  this  doctrine  holds  that  the  many  are  also 
real;  each  with  a  unique  nature  and  a  power  of  action  from 
itself.  But  each  individual  being  owes  to  the  One  Being  its 
nature  and  its  possibilities  of  action. 

Let  us  now  examine  these  world  views  somewhat  critically. 

I.  MONISM 

Monism  appears  in  two  quite  sharply  distinct  forms.  In 
the  one  form  the  nature  of  the  One  is  left  indeterminate.  In 
the  other  type  of  monism,  the  nature  of  the  One  is  definitely 
conceived.     The  classical  representative  of  monism  of  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  65 

first  type  is  Spinoza,  whose  famous  definition  will  illustrate 
this  type  of  monism.  Professor  Royce,  I  select  as  the  best 
exponent  of  monism  of  the  second  type.  His  remarkable 
book,  The  World  and  the  Individual,  gives  the  most  complete 
and  luminous  exposition  of  the  doctrine  of  monism  which 
has  yet  appeared. 

To  begin  with  the  monism  of  Spinoza.  The  chief  points 
in  this  doctrine  are: 

1.  The  One  or  God  alone  exists  as  Substance;  other 
existences  are  modi  of  this  one  Substance  Being. 

2.  Our  known-real-worid  consists  of  two  forms  of  reality, 
mind  and  nature,  res  cogitans  and  res  extensa.  It  is  in 
these  two  forms  of  being  that  the  essence  or  nature  of 
God  unfolds  and  realizes  itself  for  our  minds.  Accordingly 
we  may  regard  mind  and  nature  as  the  two  attributes  of 
the  One  Substance;  while  each  individual  being  is  a  mode  of 
either  one  or  the  other  of  these  two  attributes;  and  inasmuch 
as  these  two  attributes,  mind  and  matter,  express  the  nature 
of  God  as  the  one  substance,  each  individual  mind  or 
material  object  is  a  mode  of  this  one  substance,  God. 

3.  Since  each  individual  being  is  thus  absolutely  depen- 
dent upon  the  one  and  only  Substance  Being  for  its  nature 
and  whatever  it  does  or  undergoes,  each  individual  is  just 
what  the  One  makes  it.  Nothing  in  this  world  of  individual 
beings  and  their  experiences  could  be  other  than  it  is  without 
a  change  in  the  nature  of  the  One;  and  this  is  inconceivable. 

4.  God,  the  One  Substance,  being  perfect  in  his  nature, 
possessing  every  attribute,  each  one  in  a  degree  infinite 
and  perfect,  the  world  is  perfectly  rational  and  perfectly 
good.  WTien  therefore,  we  think  we  see  imperfections  and 
evil  in  the  world,  our  judgments  are  false  or  rather  irrelevant; 


66  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

they  are  valid  only  of  those  appearances  which  the  world 
presents  in  consequence  of  our  finite  point  of  view.  Our 
distinctions,  good  and  evil,  perfect,  imperfect,  etc.,  are  not 
relevant  to  the  real  world  as  it  exists  for  God. 

The  most  important  points  in  Spinoza's  monism  are  his 
conception  of  the  One  Substance  God,  the  relation  of  God 
to  the  world,  and  the  ethical  and  religious  implications  of 
this  monism.  Taking  these  points  in  the  order  named,  we 
may  properly  ask.  Is  Spinoza's  conception  of  the  One 
which  he  calls  Substance  or  God,  free  from  ambiguity? 
There  are  passages  in  his  Ethics  which  clearly  attribute  to 
this  being  intelligence.  God  is  declared  to  be  perfect  in- 
tellect; God  is  the  All  Knower;  nay  it  is  the  reiterated 
teaching  of  Spinoza  that  the  universe  is  perfectly  rational 
and  therefore  perfectly  intelligible  to  one  who  should  have 
an  adequate  idea  of  it.  Spinoza  declares  that  man  may 
know  God  unto  perfection;  and  in  this  knowledge  of  God 
is  man's  salvation  and  his  blessedness;  it  is  man's  chief  end 
to  know  God  and  to  enjoy  him  forever.  It  would  seem  to 
be  made  clear  beyond  doubt  that  the  One  in  Spinoza's 
monism  is  a  spiritual  being,  and  spiritual  in  the  sense  in 
which  we  know  such  a  nature;  for  if  man  can  have  an 
adequate  idea  of  God,  he  knows  him  as  he  is,  and  con- 
sequently God  is  as  man  thus  conceives  him. 

But  unfortunately  there  are  other  parts  of  Spinoza's 
teaching  which  assert  that  the  One  is  not  intelligent,  after  our 
human  type.  God,  we  are  told,  does  not  possess  intellect; 
for  intellect,  as  we  know  it,  is  finite;  and  finiteness  is  in- 
separable from  our  human  modes  of  knowing,  we  can  only 
know  in  part.  Not  only  does  Spinoza  deny  that  God  has 
intellect;  but  he  also  expressly  teaches  that  God  does  not 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  67 

feel  or  will,  as  we  possess  these  functions;  God  does  not  love, 
pity,  feel  anger;  God  does  not  purpose,  conceive  ends  and 
realize  them.  Now  when  we  eliminate  from  our  conception 
of  God,  feeling  and  willing  in  the  only  forms  in  which  they 
are  intelligible  to  us,  can  there  remain  to  that  conception 
any  determinate  property  or  attribute  whatever  ? 

The  conclusion  would  seem  to  be  that  in  this  type  of 
monism,  the  nature  of  the  One  is  wholly  indeterminate; 
and  if  so,  we  ask,  can  the  One  so  conceived,  afford  any 
explanation  of  the  many?  This  brings  us  to  the  second 
point  in  Spinoza's  monism,  the  empirical  world. 

In  the  first  place  Spinoza's  teaching  leaves  us  in  no 
uncertainty  as  to  the  kind  of  existence  which  is  to  be  predi- 
cated of  individual  beings,  minds  and  things,  res  cogitans — 
res  extenscB.  They  possess  only  modal  significance.  In 
respect  to  essence  or  meaning  they  are  of  the  substance  of 
the  One;  just  as  the  radii  of  a  circle  exist  only  as  modi  of 
the  circle;  being  in  their  essence  or  meaning,  one  with  the 
essence  of  the  circle.  From  the  point  of  view  of  sense  and 
imagination,  these  radii  are  separate  and  individual  exist- 
ences; from  the  point  of  \^*ew  of  the  understanding,  they 
are  only  modi  of  the  circle,  and  have  no  separate  independ- 
ent being  whatever.  In  like  manner  does  every  individual 
mind,  every  individual,  material  being  exist.  It  is  to  our 
sense  perception  and  in  our  imagination  only,  that  they 
exist  as  individual  and  independent  beings;  who  ever  has  an 
adequate  idea  of  them,  perceives  that  they  are  only  modi  of 
the  one  essence,  God.  And  as  the  nature,  properties,  and 
laws  of  the  circle,  are  made  explicit  in  the  circumference, 
the  radii  and  the  various  lines  drawn  therein,  so  in  the 
individual  minds,  and  material  beings  which  compose  the 


68  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

empirical  world,  the  world  of  the  many,  the  meaning,  the 
nature,  of  the  One  or  God  is  supposed  to  be  unfolded  and 
defined.  Clearly  then,  the  many  are  in  every  detail  of 
their  being,  what  the  One  makes  them  to  be.  The  One 
contains  the  many  in  such  wise  that  knowledge  of  the  One 
would  at  the  same  time  be  a  knowledge  of  the  many.  Such 
being  the  meaning  of  individual  being,  the  significance  of 
the  many  in  their  relation  to  the  One,  let  us  see  next  what 
consequences  for  our  ethical  and  religious  conceptions  of 
the  world  follow  from  Spinoza's  monism. 

One  of  the  obvious  deductions  would  seem  to  be,  The 
universe  is  absolutely  determined;  Spinoza's  doctrine  is 
thoroughgoing  determinism.  There  is  nothing  contingent 
in  such  a  world;  nothing  could  be  other  than  it  is  without 
changing  the  nature  of  the  world  reality.  This  precludes 
the  possibility  that  any  human  action  or  human  life  could 
be  other  than  it  is.  The  belief  that  we  could  have  acted 
otherwise  than  we  did  act  in  any  situation,  is  an  illusion, 
due  to  our  ignorance  of  the  causes  of  our  actions. 

A  second  deduction  seems  equally  legitimate,  namely, 
the  universe  is  static;  real  being  is  fixed  in  an  eternal  state; 
it  cannot  change,  for  that  would  imply  its  impferfection. 
Whatever  meaning  there  may  be  left  to  our  time  conception, 
a  process  in  time,  is  not  an  experience  of  the  One.  The 
real  world  is  all  that  it  ever  will  be,  all  Jhat  it  can  be.  What 
significance,  therefore,  can  change,  growth,  development 
have  for  the  One,  if  indeed  we  can  ascribe  consciousness  to 
this  being?  Shall  we  say  the  One  comprehends  in  some 
ineffable  way  these  characters  of  reality  as  we  know  it,  and 
transcends  them  ?  Or  shall  we  say  these  conceptions  have 
no  relevancy  for  that  Being;  they  are  significant  and  valid 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  69 

only  in  our  finite  realm  of  being  ?  But  how  can  our  thinking 
then  be  defined  as  a  mode  of  the  infinite  intellect,  which  is 
Spinoza's  teaching  ? 

A  third  deduction  from  this  theory  is,  The  universe  of  the 
One  is  perfect,  and  without  moral  defect.  But  now,  our 
human  world  is  full  of  the  things  and  experiences  we  call 
imperfections  and  evils,  pains,  disappointments,  defects, 
sorrows,  and  sins.  Are  these  judgments  true  or  are  they 
false  ?  Are  imperfections,  faults,  sufferings,  sin,  etc., facts  in 
the  real  world,  or  are  they  our  false  beliefs  about  that  world  ? 
But  again,  how  can  our  judgments  be  false,  if  our  judging 
minds  are  modi  of  the  Being  whom  Spinoza  declares  is 
Absolute  Intellect  ?  Thus  it  would  seem  the  imperfection, 
error,  and  evil  present  insoluble  problems  to  the  monistic 
thinker  of  this  type.  For  if  imperfection  and  evil  are  facts 
in  the  real  world,  then  how  can  that  real  world  be  perfect 
and  unchangeable  as  Spinoza  teaches  ?  And  if  imperfection 
and  evil  are  not  facts  in  the  real  world,  how  explain  the 
error  in  our  human  judgments  ?  i  Again,  must  we  not  greatly 
change  our  religious  conception  and  the  significance  of 
religion  for  our  lives  were  we  to  accept  the  monism  of 
Spinoza  ?*.  |We  shall  not  seek  this  God  of  Spinoza  for  com- 
fort in  our  sorrows ;  for  our  sorrows  do  not  exist  for  him.  We 
shall  not  pray  for  help  in  time  of  weakness,  perplexity,  or 
peril,  for  nothing  can  be  changed  in  the  world  that  is  already 
finished  and  perfect.  *  We  shall  raise  no  hymns  of  praise 
for  loving  kindness  and  tender  mercies;  for  the  God  of 
Spinoza  does  not  so  think  of  us.  Love,  compassion,  sym- 
pathy are  not  elements  in  his  nature,  they  are  not  experiences 
in  his  life.  In  none  of  these  ways  are  we  related  to  God  in 
religious   experience.     Not  in   these  experiences   does  the 


70  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

follower  of  Spinoza  find  the  reality  and  the  power  of  religion. 

Religion,  as  Spinoza  conceives  it,  is  just  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth  that  the  world-whole  of  which  we  are  a  part  is 
perfect  reason  and  free  from  imperfection  and  evil.  And 
secondly,  the  liberty  and  blessedness  which  the  knowledge 
of  this  truth  brings;  freedom  from  error,  emancipation  from 
the  bondage  of  finiteness  of  view  and  action,  blessedness  is 
the  vision  of  God,  armor  intellectus  dei. 

There  is,  furthermore,  a  practical  consequence  which  is 
serious  for  the  thinker  who  accepts  Spinoza's  monistic  solu- 
tion of  the  world  problem.  If  moral  evil  does  not  exist  for 
God,  why  should  we  take  it  seriously;  why  regret  wrong 
doing,  why  repent  and  strive  for  amendment,  why  strive 
to  overcome  evil  in  others,  and  lead  them  to  repentance  and 
moral  reformation  ?  Is  not  this  our  salvation  from  sin,  to 
attain  to  the  knowledge  that  it  does  not  exist  in  God's  world  ? 
It  is  but  the  incident  of  our  finite  point  of  view.  We  are 
saved  from  sin  by  rising  above  our  finiteness  of  vision;  we 
overcome  evil  by  overcoming  the  error  in  thinking  that  evil 
really  exists.  We  should  not  repent  of  wrong  doing,  but 
of  the  ignorance  in  which  we  believed  that  there  is  such  a 
fact  as  wrong  doing.  We  amend  not  our  bad  wills,  our 
sinful  dispositions;  we  correct  rather  our  erring  thought. 

The  monism  of  Spinoza  unquestionably  involves  a  pro- 
found alteration  in  the  conception  of  religion  which  believers 
for  the  most  part  hold;  but,  that  this  effect  upon  our  reli- 
gious conception  of  the  world  is  an  altogether  undesirable 
one  can  hardly  be  maintained.  But  further  discussion 
of  this  point  will  appropriately  come  in  the  third  division 
of  our  study.  -  ' 

We  now  turn  to  the  other  type  of  monism,  the  monism  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  71 

Royce.  In  comparison  vrith  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza,  per- 
haps the  most  important  difference  which  the  monism  of 
Royce  presents,  is  the  attempt  which  he  makes  to  put  in  the 
place  of  the  indeterminate  Being  of  Spinoza,  a  definitely 
conceived  spiritual  Being,  nay  a  Person;  and  also  to  give  to 
the  many  a  better  sort  of  existence  than  the  merely  modi 
character  which  they  have  in  Spinoza's  doctrine. 

In  this  type  of  monism,  the  One  is  conceived  in  terms  of  a 
spiritual  life.  It  is  no  neutral  or  vaguely  defined  Substance, 
but  a  seK-conscious  Being,  a  Personality,  nay  more,  this 
Being  who  is  called  God,  is  declared  to  be  the  only  complete, 
Individual.  He  is  an  omniscient  being,  the  All-thinker,  All- 
knower,  a  Being  possessing  all  logically  possible  knowledge, 
insight,  and  wisdom.  Nor  is  this  being  to  be  thought  as 
transcending  thought,  feeling,  and  will,  as  they  are  in  us; 
he  has  these  same  attributes  but  in  absolute  perfection.  It 
is  we  who  in  our  finite,  particular  natures  think  imperfectly, 
and  therefore  err  in  thinking,  feel  inadequately  or  improp- 
erly, and  will  incompletely  and  miss  the  goal.  The  Absolute 
is  the  Complete,  the  unerring  thinker;  his  feeling  is  in  perfect 
accord  with  his  insight,  and  he  wills  and  always  attains  the 
goal  of  his  willing. 

So  much  for  the  One,  the  Absolute  Individual. 

But  what  of  the  many?  What  sort  of  existence,  what 
degree  of  reality  falls  to  the  finite  individual  being  in  this 
monistic  world  view?  Here  is  the  critical  point  with  all 
monistic  systems.  We  saw  it  was  the  crux  of  Spinoza's 
monism.  Does  the  more  spiritual,  and  the  more  thoroughly 
elaborated  monism  of  Royce  successfully  meet  this  crucial 
problem  of  the  many  and  their  relation  to  the  One  ? 

Let  us  see  in  the  first  place,  just  how  the  many  are  related 


n  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

to  the  One.  In  one  series  of  passages  this  relation  is  set 
forth  as  one  of  substantial  identity.  Of  our  human  selves 
we  read,  **We  are  the  divine  as  it  expresses  itself  here  and 
now."  No  item  of  what  we  are  is  other  than  an  occurrence 
within  the  whole  of  the  divine  existence.  Our  experience 
is  a  part  of  the  life  through  which  God  wins  his  own.  This 
is  true  of  any  experience,  for  instance  sorrow.  **I  sorrow, 
but  the  sorrow  is  not  only  mine,  this  same  sorrow  just  as  it  is 
for  me  is  God's  sorrow."  But  how  about  the  experience  of 
error  in  thought  and  going  wrong  in  action  ?  Must  we  not 
say  of  error  and  sin,  what  is  said  of  sorrow,  and  include  these 
experiences  also  in  the  Absolute  life?  So  it  would  seem; 
for  Royce  says,  '*The  act  which  the  individual  wills,  is  at 
the  same  time,  what  God  wills.  When  I  consciously  and 
uniquely  will,  it  is  I,  who  just  here  am  God's  will."  To  the 
finite  it  is  said,  *'  You  are  at  once  an  expression  of  the  divine 
will  and  by  that  very  fact  an  expression,  here  and  now  in  your 
life,  of  your  own  will." 

The  essential  identity  of  the  many  finite  individuals  with 
the  One  could  hardly  be  more  explicitly  asserted.  Spinoza 
could  set  forth  his  doctrine  in  the  same  language. 

But,  in  another  series  of  passages  we  find  the  relation 
between  the  One  and  the  many  is  one  of  significant  differ- 
ence. In  this  part  of  his  doctrine.  Professor  Royce  seeks  to 
preserve  to  the  finite  beings,  especially  to  our  human  selves^ 
true  being,  uniqueness  and  freedom.  God's  thoughts  are 
not  our  thoughts;  there  is  something  in  our  thoughts  which 
is  all  our  own.  The  One  thinks,  has  ideas;  but  his  ideas 
are  richer  than  our  fragments  of  thought.  The  thoughts  of 
God  have  no  limit  to  their  fulfillment,  their  realization,  their 
truth. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  73 

The  experience  of  the  Absolute  has  in  it  what  our  ex- 
perience lacks;  what  did  it  have,  would  answer  our  questions, 
solve  our  doubts.  Let  for  instance,  our  experience  be  one 
of  pain;  in  the  Absolute  this  experience  is  not  one  of  pain 
merely,  but  of  pain  passing  into  peace.  Let  our  experience 
be  one  of  struggle  issuing  in  defeat;  his  experience  is  that  of 
winning  triumph  through  partial  defeat.  In  such  passages 
as  the  following,  individuality,  freedom,  activity  are  cleariy 
asserted  of  the  many  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  are 
contained  within  the  One.  '*This  oneness  of  the  Absolute 
Consciousness  is  nothing  that  merely  absorbs  you  in  such 
wise  that  you  vanish  from  among  the  facts  of  the  worid.'* 
**You  remain  from  the  Absolute  point  of  view  precisely 
what  you  now  know  yourself  to  be."  **  You  are  in  God  but 
you  are  not  lost  in  God."  **  You  are  for  the  divine  all  that 
you  know  yourself  to  be  at  this  instant."  Thus  is  it  main- 
tained that  the  many,  through  the  One  which  contains  them, 
preserve  their  individuality,  uniqueness,  their  self  activity 
and  freedom.  They  are  finite  but  not  as  merely  finite 
are  they  in  the  One,  they  are  there  in  such  wise  that  their 
finiteness  is  completed  in  God.  They  may  suffer  pain 
and  sorrow,  but  these  experiences  are  not  as  such,  the  ex- 
periences of  the  Absolute;  his  experience  is  rather  that  of 
peace  though  pain,  comfort  though  sorrow.  The  finite  err 
in  thought,  and  sin  in  action;  but  their  errors,  their  sins  are 
not  identical  with  the  Absolute  experience,  this  is  the  ex- 
perience of  error  rectified  by  truth,  sin  overcome,  rejected 
and  by  that  rejection  made  a  moment  in  perfect  goodness. 
But,  after  all  that  the  Roycean  monism  has  done  to  save 
the  many  from  the  fate  which  falls  to  them  in  Spinoza's 
thorough  going  monism,  does  this  attempt  succeed  ?     I  do 


74  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

not  wish  to  prejudge  the  matter  or  to  forestall  the  student's 
own  careful  reading  of  all  that  Professor  Royce  has  so 
brilliantly  and  so  suggestively  written;  but  I  think  it  is  left 
a  fairly  open  question,  whether  or  not  this  doctrine  leaves 
to  the  many  any  more  than  a  modal  existence;  and  conse- 
quently in  this  respect  his  doctrine  is  in  fundamental  accord 
with  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  able 
to  say  of  the  many,  that  they  are  not  confounded  with  one 
another;  each  is  unique,  individual;  or  that  they  **  do  not  slip 
I  as  the  dew  drops  into  a  sort  of  shining  sea."  The  distinctive- 
ness of  each  finite  being  from  other  like  beings,  their  distinc- 
tiveness within  the  One  All-Containing  Being  does  not 
secure  to  them  more  than  what  is  true  of  Spinoza's  finite 
individuals.  These  individual  minds,  our  human  selves, 
may  be  after  all  in  their  essence,  only  determinations, 
individualizations  of  the  One  only  Actual  Individual.  Our 
human  selves  may  not  be  *'lost  in  God,"  but  they  can  be 
nevertheless  only  '* thoughts  within  his  thought,"  "wills 
within  his  will,"  partial  embodiments,  and  expressions  of 
the  one  purpose,  the  one  meaning,  the  one  nature." 

This  truly  great  doctrine  of  Royce  will  meet  us  again 
when  we  take  up  the  final  problem  of  philosophy  and  we  may 
then  be  able  to  answer  the  question  we  must  for  the  present 
leave  open. 

II.  PLURALISM 

The  essential  features  of  the  pluralistic  world  view  to 
which  we  now  come,  can  best  be  brought  out  by  a  state- 
ment of  the  chief  points  of  difference  between  it  and  the 
monistic  conception  of  the  world.  These  differences  are 
the  following:  (1)  Monism  maintains  that  ultimate  being 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  75 

is  numerically  one;  Pluralism  asserts  that  it  is  many,  or 
rather,  that  there  is  a  plurality  of  ultimately  real  beings. 
(2)  Monism  teaches  that  the  many  individual  beings  which 
constitute  our  experience-world  are  in  their  natures,  states 
or  individuations  of  the  nature  of  the  One  Being  which  is 
their  source  and  their  explanation.  PluraHsm  asserts  that 
these  many  beings  are  each  ultimate  underived  and,  un- 
conditioned by  any  other  being.  (3)  The  real  world  of 
the  monist  possesses  complete  unity,  perfect  order,  and 
unbroken  harmony;  the  absence  of  unity,  the  seeming  un- 
relatedness  and  disharmony  in  our  world  of  experience  is 
either  an  illusion,  an  erroneous  judgment  of  our  finite  minds, 
or  if  real,  these  are  the  forms  or  the  stages  in  which  the  Abso- 
lute Being  realizes  its  own  nature,  and  wins  its  own  per- 
fectness.  The  pluraHst,  on  the  contrary,  maintains  that 
partial  unity,  disunity,  partial  order  and  the  absence  of  order, 
harmony  and  disharmony  are  facts  in  the  real  world.  Com- 
plete unity,  order,  and  harmony  are  an  ideal,  not  an  already 
achieved  state  of  the  world.  The  pluraHst  says,  It  is 
because  the  many  beings  are  finite  and  imperfect  that  the 
world  as  we  know  it,  is  a  world  of  mingled  unity  and  dis- 
unity, of  order  and  chaos,  coherency  and  incoherency. 
Such  unity,  coherence,  and  harmony  as  obtain  in  our  world, 
are  the  creation  of  the  many,  acting  toward  a  better,  more 
satisfying  state  of  themselves.  (4)  The  real  world  of  the 
monist  is  perfect  and  good;  what  we  judge  to  be  imperfec- 
tion and  evil  do  not  exist  in  it,  or  if  in  any  degree  they  belong 
to  it,  it  is  only  as  passing  moments  in  the  experience  of  the 
One  Being.  In  the  universe  of  the  pluralist  imperfection 
and  evil  are  what  they  appear  to  be.  In  his  world  there  are 
imperfect  beings  who  are  destined,  it  may  be  to  remain  so. 


76  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

and  bad  beings  who  oppose  the  good,  and  they  may  always 
remain  evil.  A  world  without  imperfection  and  evil  is  a 
dream,  an  ideal  toward  which  the  good  are  struggling,  and 
with  the  hope  of  ever  nearer  approximation.  (5)  The 
monistic  world  view  is  deterministic.  In  a  world  with  an 
Absolute,  nothing  could  be  other  than  it  is.  The  individual 
can  only  express  the  nature  of  the  One;  and,  will  as  he  may, 
he  can  only  do  the  will  of  the  Absolute. 

In  the  pluralist's  universe,  there  are  genuine  alternatives 
and  open  possibilities,  things  which  need  not  be  actual, 
things  which  need  not  to  have  been. 

Having  set  forth  the  chief  differences  between  the  monistic 
and  the  plurahstic  world  view,  I  will  now  discuss  their 
relative  advantages  and  disadvantages  as  rational  concep- 
tions of  the  world. 

And  in  the  first  place,  monism  undeniably  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  simplicity  and  unity.  It  rescues  the  world  of 
experience  from  its  seeming  chaotic,  discrepant,  and  multi- 
verse  character.  It  unifies  it  securely  and  completely,  and 
thereby  satisfies  a  deep  need  of  our  rational  nature.  Plural- 
ism, on  the  other  hand,  stops  far  short  of  this  goal  of  an 
intellectually  satisfying  world  explanation.  It  seems  to 
leave  us  with  a  multiverse  in  which  our  intelHgence  is 
baffled  and  put  to  confusion.  Plurahsm  is  not  merely  a 
confession  of  the  failure  of  our  minds  to  gain  a  point  of  view 
from  which  our  world  if  rightly  seen,  is  a  unity,  a  system; 
but  this  doctrine  logically  carries  the  denial  that  there  is 
such  a  point  of  view,  and  such  a  comprehensive  knowledge. 
The  monistic  thinker  confesses  that  his  finite  thought  does 
not  comprehend  the  scheme  of  things,  or  see  its  unity,  its 
wisdom,  its  goodness;   but  he  comforts  himself  with  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  77 

assurance  that  there  is  One,  who,  knowing  all,  knows  they 
are  a  one  world;  and  he  cherishes  the  hope  that  our  finite 
minds  will  come  even  nearer  the  goal  of  the  perfect  knowl- 
edge. For  the  pluralist  there  can  be  no  such  comforting 
hope.  A  world  that  is  not  one  cannot  be  known  as  such. 
And  our  knowledge  is  destined  to  remain  a  fragment.  A 
world  unity  without  a  One  Being  in  whom  that  unity  is 
grounded  and  actualized  is  only  an  ever  flying  goal  that 
tantalizes  our  aspiring  minds. 

The  second  advantage  that  is  claimed  for  monism  is, 
that  it  offers  a  guaranteed  future  of  the  world;  while  plural- 
ism can  give  us  only  an  uncertain  future.  Only  if  our 
world  is  grounded  in  a  One  Mind,  a  One  Law,  and  moves 
to  One  Event,  can  we  have  rational  assurance  that  out  of  our 
present  multiversity  of  incoherent,  discordant,  and  blindly 
struggling  elements,  there  will  come  that  final  order,  unity 
and  harmony  which  our  reason  craves.  Plurahsm  affords 
no  such  assurance.  That  the  now  warring  many  will 
finally  become  one  is  at  best  a  hope,  a  goal  toward  which  the 
best  are  striving;  but  with  no  guarantee  of  ultimate  achieve- 
ment. For  multiversity  is  possibly  the  last  state  of  the  world; 
and  disconnections  and  discord  may  prove  as  permanent  as 
coherence,  unity,  and  concord. 

A  third  advantage  which  the  monist  claims  for  his  theory, 
is  the  satisfaction  it  gives  to  the  ethical  demand  that  the 
world  prove  itself  completely  good.  If  the  One  is  good, 
then  good  must  be  the  final  goal  of  ill;  the  moral  struggle 
must  end  in  the  eternal  triumph  of  the  good.  We  can 
therefore  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith  in  the  certainty  of 
ultimate  victory. 

Monism  in  this  way  offers  the  only  satisfying  solution  of 


78  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

the  greatest  enigma  of  our  human  life,  the  existence  of  evil. 
On  the  contrary,  pluralism  leaves  us  with  the  issue  in  doubt; 
in  the  battle  between  the  forces  of  good  and  the  forces  of 
evil.     PluraHsm  cannot  silence  the  morally  paralysing  doubt, 
that  after  all  the  good  fight  may  have  been  fought  in  vain; 
for  if  evil  belongs  to  reality  as  essentially  as  goodness,  what 
can  assure  us  that  it  will  not  always  belong  to  it?     Nay, 
that  it  will  not  prove  to  be  the  stronger,  and  win  the  day  at 
last  ?     Is  not  the  very  heart  of  the  moral  hero  taken  out  of 
him,  if  he  must  reckon  with  this  possibility  ?     We  can  endure 
moral  evil  in  the  universe  if  we  can  rationally  believe  it  is 
destined  to  serve  the  purpose  of  goodness,  and  leave  us  with  a 
better  world  for  its  temporary  existence;  but  to  make  an  eter- 
nal duahsm  of  moral  principles,  the  final  act  in  the  world's 
drama,  with  the  fate  of  goodness  uncertain,  that  is  to  leave 
unsatisfied   the   most   imperative   demand   of   our   nature. 
PluraHsm  does  this;  and  it  labors  therefore,  under  a  most 
serious  disadvantage,  in  that  it  robs  us  of  the  strongest 
stimulus  to  our  moral  endeavors. 

These  are  the  advantages  which  are  urged  in  support  of  the 
monistic  world  view. 

We  will  now  see  what  answer  the  pluralist  makes  to  these 
claims. 

1.  To  the  monist's  statement  that  his  world  view  alone 
satisfies  the  rational  demand  for  unity  and  complete  intelH- 
gibilit^  in  our  world,  the  pluralist  repHes,  The  monist 
saves  the  unity  of  the  world  at  the  cost  of  the  real  being  of 
the  many.  It  diminishes,  if  it  does  not  wholly  destroy  the 
concrete  realit}'  of  the  man}'  in  the  interest  of  abstract  One- 
ness. For  the  only  way  in  which  the  monist  can  make  the 
many  one,  is  to  reduce  them  to  modes  or  states  of  his  One — 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  79 

all  and  only  Truly  Real  Being.  Nay,  more  than  this, 
monism  empties  the  very  conception  of  unity  of  its  true 
meaning;  unit^  properly  implies  an  actual  variety  of  real 
differences  in  the  many;  and  if  this  variety  and  difference 
are  to  be  anything  more  than  empty  names,  the  real  existence 
of  the  many  must  be  presupposed.  It  is  only  true  interac- 
tion between  the  many  real  beings  which  can  estabhsh 
unity  as  a  concrete  thing.  Unless  this  unity  is  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  many  themselves,  the  product  of  their  harmon- 
ious and  unified  actions,  it  is  an  empty  abstraction.  Now, 
in  the  monist's  scheme,  the  many  achieve  no  unity,  they  in 
fact  do  nothing.  The  unitary  nature  of  the  One  Being  is 
the  source,  the  goal  of  whatever  processes  there  are  by  which 
the  unity  of  the  world  is  maintained.  What  appears  to  be 
the  activity  of  the  many  and  the  unity  achieved  by  them,  is 
only  the  phenomenal  expression  of  the  ever  unified  being  of 
the  One. 

2.  To  the  claim  that  monism  gives  a  sure  outcome  of 
the  world's  history,  the  pluralist  replies :  Unless  w^e  already 
know  what  is  the  character  and  what  the  purpose  of  the  One 
are,  we  are  not  certain  of  any  outcome  whatever.  Suppose, 
on  the  basis  of  a  monistic  behef ,  we  could  expect  final  unity 
and  harmony,  the  banishment  of  all  disunity  and  discord — 
might  not  that  prove  to  be  a  unity  in  which  the  whole  rich 
content  of  individual  experiences,  the  conscious  self  hood, 
the  interests  of  personal  lives,  should  pass  away,  be  absorbed 
and  transmuted  into  some  such  unitv  as  the  Absolute  of 
Bradley  possesses,  or  the  One  Substance  of  Spinoza  enjoys. 
Would  anyone  think  such  a  unity  desirable  ? 

3.  To  the  claim  of  monism  to  secure  to  us  a  truly  moral 
universe,  the  pluralist  concedes  that  his  doctrine  does  leave 


80  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

the  future  in  an  ethical  aspect,  undetermined.     There  is  no 
absolute  assurance  given  in  advance,  that  the  good  will  be 
completely  triumphant,  that  some  evil  will  not  be  eternal, 
that  dualism  of  moral  principles  will  not  be  the  last,  as  it  was 
the  first  act  in  the  moral  drama  of  the  universe.     He  will 
contend,  however,  that  his  theory  has  at  least  this  merit,  it 
makes  the  struggle  between  good  and  evil  a  real  fight,  not  a 
sham  battle.     But  in  the  monist's  scheme,  the  forces  which 
seem  to  be  arrayed  against  each  other  are  not  real  enemies,  a 
real  battle  is  not  on  at  all.     For,  is  not  the  real  world  already 
perfect  ?  Is  not  the  battle  already  fought  ?  the  victory  already 
won  ?  And  consequently  what  seems  to  us  in  this  realm  of  our 
finite  human  Hves,  the  struggle  between  good  and  evil  is  a 
mere  appearance,  the  illusion  of  our  finite  vision.     But,  waiv- 
ing this,  the  pluraHst  may  further  say  that  if  in  some  way  we 
can  think  of  our  world  as  already  complete,  and  yet  still  in 
the  making,  and  that  there  can  be  absolute  certainty  of  the 
ultimate  triumph  of  the  good.     With  such  a  guaranteed 
future,  how  serious,  how  earnest  would  be  the  fight  with 
evil,  when  we  know  in  advance  that  victor},  will  come  to  the 
side  of  the  good?     What  would   become   of  courage,   of 
loyalty,  of  self-sacrifice,  if  victory  of  the  good  is  a  foregone 
conclusion  ?     It  is  not  necessary  to  our  best  moral  endeavors, 
that  we  should  now  be  certain  that  good  is  to  be  the  final 
goal  of  ill;  it  is  quite  enough  that  we  have  good  hope,  the 
world  can  be  made  better;  that  each  of  the  many  can  really 
contribute  to  the  world's  progress  toward  perfect  goodness. 
And  this  leads  to  a  strong  point  in  support  of  the  plurahst's 
doctrine,  namely  the  moral  responsibihty  which  falls  to  each 
individual  for  the  well  being  of  all  and  the  good  outcome  we 
desire  for  our  world.     No  such  responsibihty  can  rest  upon 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  81 

the  individuals  in  the  monist's  world  scheme;  for  the  One, 
the  Absolute,  does  not  need  his  help.  He  is  sufficient  unto 
himself.  It  is  a  vain  exhortation  to  bid  the  msmy  to  *'come 
up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty."  This  Lord 
does  not  need  helping.  Rather  let  the  counsel  be,  '*  stand 
still  and  see  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.'*  But  in  the  world 
of  the  pluralist,  the  individual  can  truly  say,  *' Since  the  world 
is  what  the  many  make  it,  I  can  really  do  something  to  make 
the  world  other  than  it  is,  and  therefore  it  is  true  that  the 
Lord  has  need  of  me,  in  order  to  win  the  day."  The  final 
victory  of  God  will  not  come  until  every  individual  fighter 
for  the  good  has  fought  the  good  fight  himself." 

Finally,  the  pluralist  maintains  against  the  monist,  that 
pluralism  alone  makes  a  genuine  ethical  and  religious 
experience  possible;  that  monism  on  the  contrary,  involves 
the  gravest  consequences  for  the  moral  and  religious  life. 
The  pluralist  reasons  after  this  manner,  If  monism  is  true, 
what  becomes  of  our  moral  judgments,  the  judgments  of 
regret,  of  responsibility,  and  punishment;  what  significance 
or  relevancy  remain  to  religious  faith,  humility,  trust, 
prayer,  which  is  the  vital  breath  of  religion  ?  If  prayer  is  a 
real  transaction,  it  is  a  dialogue,  and  he  who  prays,  must  be 
able  to  say  I  and  than.  This  duality  of  existence,  this 
degree  of  separateness  in  Beings,  is  the  very  foundation 
stone  of  religion.  Unless  our  wills  are  really  ours,  we 
cannot  *'make  them  thine."  Unless  there  is  a  true  other- 
ness in  the  relation  of  God  to  man,  the  religious  attitude 
is  impossible.  Now,  continues  the  pluralist,  monism  if 
made  self  consistent  destroys  the  foundation  of  both 
morality  and  religion.  Take,  for  instance,  moral  evil. 
The  wrong  doer  if  monism  is  accepted,  is,  in  his  essential 


82  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

nature,   a  partial  function  of  the   One  Individual  Being. 
That  being  the  case,  we  are  faced  by  this  alternative,  either 
we  must  say  the  evil  deed  is  not  a  fact  for  the  One,  the 
Standard  Judgment,  or,  we  must  say  this  evil  deed  is  a 
moment,  a  stage  in  the  ethical  experience  of  the  One;  some- 
thing which  is  necessary  to  his  becoming  absolutely  good. 
But  if  such  be  the  meaning  of  the  deed  we  call  evil,  we  have 
taken  from  sin  its  strength,  and  from  regret,  remorse,  and 
penitence,  their  entire  meaning;  for  we  cannot  say  of  this 
deed  it  is  something  which  ought  not  to  be;  for  does  it  not 
have  a  place  in  the  very  life  of  goodness,  nay  is  it  not  needed 
to  make  that  life   good?     What  therefore  is  an  essential 
element  or  factor  in  the  realization  of  perfect  goodness, 
cannot  be  a  thing  which  ought  not  to  be.     In  the  world  of 
consistent  monism  either  there  is  nothing  of  which  we  can 
say  it  ought  not  to  be,  and  consequently  it  is  a  world  of 
sinless  perfection,  or  that  world  is  not  a  perfectly  good  world; 
and  the  evil  in  that  world  is  in  the  One,  Only,  All  Real 
being.     There  seems  to  be  no  escape  from  this  alternative. 

Such  is  the  moral  dilemma  of  monism.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  monist  confronts  a  serious  difficulty,  if  he  is 
not  in  the  dilemma  which  the  pluralist  sets  before  him. 
How  can  he  meet  this  difficulty  or  escape  this  dilemma  ? 
I  will  suggest  that  he  can  do  so  by  one  of  two  possible 
ways. 

1.  He  may  maintain  that  in  the  matter  of  the  evil  deed, 
the  complete  fact  is  not  merely  the  bad  deed,  or  the  evil 
intent,  but  this  bad  deed,  condemned,  rejected,  the  evil 
intent  thwarted,  the  evil  will  resisted,  overcome,  and  made 
thus  an  element  in  the  realization  of  the  good  will. 
The  wrong  doer,  the  sinner,  is  indeed  in  God,  but  he  is  there 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  83 

to  be  rejected,  scorned  and  triumphed  over.  Wrong  doing, 
sin  as  a  separable  isolated  fact  is  not  an  experience  of  the 
All-One,  it  is  our  finite,  partial,  fragmentary  experience, 
and  so  just  because  our  experience  is  finite  and  fragmentary. 
The  ethical  experience  of  the  Absolute,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  wrong-doing  condemned  and  thereby  made  a  part  of 
goodness;  sin,  annulled,  atoned,  and  so  passing  into  the 
larger  harmony  of  perfect  goodness.  Just  as  in  the  matter 
of  pain,  sorrow,  struggle,  these  experiences  have  a  sig- 
nificance for  the  x\ll-One,  the  All-Containing-Being,  but 
not  just  the  significance  they  have  for  us.  In  God,  the 
experience  is  not  just  pain,  as  it  is  so  often  with  us;  but  pain 
passing  into  peace.  In  God  there  is  not  just  sorrow  as  it  is 
suffered  by  us,  but  sorrow  issuing  in  comfort,  through  the 
knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  sorrow.  We  struggle  and 
taste  the  bitterness  of  defeat;  the  Absolute  has  the  experience 
not  of  the  struggle  separated  from  victory,  but  of  the  struggle 
which  wins  victory  through  seeming  defeat.  In  Hke  manner 
are  we  to  interpret  the  fact  of  moral  evil.  It  is  a  part  of 
God's  life,  but  not  as  an  isolated  fragment,  detached  from 
the  whole,  but  as  a  part  of  the  whole,  to  be  judged  only  in  its 
relation  to  the  life  of  completed  goodness. 

2.  If,  however,  the  monist  does  not  elect  to  defend  his 
doctrine  on  this  line,  he  must  take  a  bolder  tack,  and  main- 
tain that  neither  ethical  nor  religious  experience  is  affected 
by  any  conception  we  may  frame  of  ulcimate  Being,  pro- 
vided that  being  is  given  a  spiritual  nature.  Truth  and 
knowledge  remain  truth  and  knowledge,  and  our  interest 
in  them  remains  the  same,  whether  the  being  who  knows  and 
possesses  truth,  is  One  or  Many.  Just  so  moral  and  religious 
experience  have  the  same  significance  and  value,  whether  the 


84  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

subjects  or  centers  of  this  experience  are  metaphysically 
thought  as  One  or  Many.  Good  and  evil,  moral  ideals  and 
the  struggle  to  attain  them,  beauty  and  the  joy  it  gives, 
reverence  and  the  exaltation  it  gives,  trust  and  calmness, 
hope  and  its  fruition ;  in  a  word,  all  that  fills  this  life  of  ours 
with  its  most  significant  and  priceless  moments,  is  no  more 
destroyed  and  rendered  meaningless  by  a  monistic  concep- 
tion of  ultimate  reality  than  by  the  conception  of  pluralism. 
i  Suffering  is  not  less  real  when  we  view  it  as  an  experience 
of  God,  nay  it  is  no  longer  a  mere  brute  fact,  opaque,  and 
without  meaning  when  it  is  seen  to  be  an  indispensable 
element  in  the  Absolute's  perfect  peace.  Nor  is  sin  less  real 
when  it  means  the  bad  will  which  God  rejects  and  conquers, 
and  by  so  doing  maintains  his  goodness,  nay  becomes  good  ? 
The  interest  of  morality  and  religion  are  not  involved  in 
this  issue  between  monism  and  pluralism. 

We  have  set  forth  the  two  opposed  w^orld  views  with  their 
relative  advantages  and  disadvantages.     What  shall  be  our 
critical  judgment  upon  them  ?     I  will  offer  the  following. 
1.  If  the  test  of  rationality  in  a  belief  be  its  adequacy  in 
y       satisfying    both    theoretic    needs    and    practical    demands, 
*       neither  monism  nor  pluralism  satisfies  the  ideal  of  ration- 
ahty.     Monism,  indeed,  saves  the  unity  of  the  world  but  it 
does  so  at  too  great  a  cost.     Its  One  All  Real  Being  swallows 
up  the  many  beings;  it  sacrifices  to  its  ideal  of  unity,  the 
variety,  the  fulness,  and  the  wealth  of  concrete  experience. 
Pluralism,  on  the  other  hand,  while  it  saves  the  concrete  re- 
ality of  the  many,  does  so  at  the  cost  of  the  unity  of  the 
world.     Without  a  unifying  principle  which  is  other  than 
the  unification  of  the  man^ ,  there  is  no  rational  assurance 
that  the  many  will  ever  make  a  universe. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  85 

2.  Monism,   by  the   questionable  reality  it  gives  to  our 
human  selves,  leaves  it  an  open  question  whether  our  moral 
life  with  its  seeming  warfare  of  good  against  evil  is  after  all 
what  it  seems  to  be.     The  One  is  so  completely  All  in  All, 
that  the  many  only  reflect  and  serve  as  manifestation  points 
for  the  activity,  the  sole  agency  of  the  One.     The  many  do 
not  act  for  themselves  and  of  themselves;  they  have  not 
power  of  their  own  to  will  the  good  or  the  evil.     Monism 
truly  offers  us  a  guaranteed  future,  the  absolute  supremacy 
of  the  good,  its  final  victory;  but  it  tends  to  do  so  by  taking 
away  that  possibihty  of  a  different  outcome,  without  which 
the  moral  struggle  is  robbed  of  its  significance  and  interest 
To  give  us  certainty  of  the  final  result  is  to  take  away  faith 
and  the  heart  is  taken  out  of  our  own  moral  welfare  when  it  is 
no  longer  that  good  fight  of  faith.     But,  on  the  other  hand, 
pluralism  fails  to  satisfy  our  ethical  demand,  because  it 
leaves  the  future  too  insecure.     It  leaves  the  bad  possibili- 
ties too  much  in  the  final  view.     It  fails  to  justify  our  hope 
of  the  final  victory  of  the  good. 

III.  MONISTIC  PLURALISM— PLURALISTIC  MONISM 

Monism  and  pluralism  have  been  discussed  as  alternative 
solutions  of  the  problem  of  Being;  but  the  question  arises. 
Do  these  two  doctrines  exhaust  the  possible  alternatives  ? 
In  popular  thinking,  neither  of  these  world  views  is  held; 
especially  is  this  true  of  religious  believers.  These  for  the 
most  part  beheve  in  the  One  as  the  supreme,  indeed  Abso- 
lute Being;  but  they  beheve  no  less  firmly  in  the  substance- 
being  of  the  many;  the  formula  expressing  their  meta- 
physical belief,  is  the  One  and  the  Many,  each  equally  real. 
There  are  philosophical  thinkers,  some  of  them  of  very  high 


86  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

repute,  who  have  attempted  to  maintain  a  world  view  which 
is  intermediate  between  monism  and  pluralism,  a  via  media 
between  what  these  thinkers  regard  as  two  extreme  and 
equally  untenable  doctrines.  We  may  call  this  intermediate 
type  of  doctrine  monistic-pluralism  or  pluralistic-monism, 
according  as  the  emphasis  falls  upon  the  One  or  upon  the 
many.  As  a  representative  of  this  world  view,  I  will  present 
the  Monodology  of  Leibniz,  a  man  who  deserves  to  rank 
among  the  world's  greatest  thinkers. 

I  will  briefly  set  forth  the  main  points  in  Leibniz's  doctrine 
of  the  One  and  the  many;  and  his  doctrine  of  the  Many — 
the  pluralistic  side  of  his  world  view.  The  foundation  of 
our  experience  world,  the  world  of  our  sense  perception  and 
the  world  of  empirical  science,  are  beings  which  are  not 
presented  in  sense  experience,  nor  are  they  identical  with 
the  fundamental  concepts  which  science  employs;  they  are 
metaphysical  beings.  The  monads  are  infinite  in  number, 
and  psychical  not  material  in  nature.  Each  elementary 
being  is  a  unity — not  a  mere  unit;  for  diversity,  difference, 
and  manifoldness  belong  to  each  of  these  beings;  each  is  a 
many  in  one,  a  one  in  many.  Each  of  these  beings  is  a  sub- 
stance; for  a  substance  is  that  which  acts,  is  acted  upon  and 
through  its  actions  stands  in  relation  to  other  beings.  Each 
elementary  being  acts  from  itself,  or  rather  develops  its  own 
activities  and  states;  each  being  is  individual,  is  unique  and 
has  a  life  and  a  significance  which  are  its  own.  The  many 
beings  act  upon  each  other  only  in  the  sense,  that  whatever 
activities  and  changes  occur  in  any  one  of  these  beings,  are 
occasions  or  reasons  for  corresponding  states  or  activities  in 
other  individual  beings.  There  is  no  passing  influence  from 
one  of  these  beings  to  another.   In  respect  to  their  actions,  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  .    87 

relation  between  them  is  one  of  correspondence.  Because 
of  this  pecuHarity  of  the  structure,  mode  of  existence  and 
interrelations  of  these  beings,  each  is  called  a  monad;  and 
the  systematic  whole  they  constitute,  can  be  called  the  monad 
world.  Now,  Leibniz  teaches  that  in  this  monad  world, 
there  is  perfect  harmony  between  the  monad  beings;  they 
constitute  a  universe  not  a  multi verse.  While  the  monad 
does  not  exert  an  influence  upon  its  fellow  monads,  each 
monad  adjusts  its  own  actions  and  conditions  to  the  actions 
and  states  of  all  the  other  monads  in  such  wise  that  unitv, 
order,  and  harmony  are  maintained  in  the  monad  world. 
It  is  as  if  each  monad  took  account  of  all  the  other  monads, 
knew  what  sort  of  action  the  interests  of  the  whole  system 
called  for,  and  intelligently  acted  for  that  end.  Thus  do  the 
many  in  Leibniz's  scheme  constitute  a  systematic  whole,  a 
universe;  while  remaining  a  many  they  are  a  unified  many. 
This  unity  would  then  seem  to  be  a  status  of  the  many,  a 
result  achieved  by  them.  The  One  need  not  therefore  be 
an  existing  being,  as  monism  requires;  but  an  ideal  unity  in 
the  actions,  the  aims  of  the  many  real  beings,  as  pluralism 
conceives  it.  Could  we  stop  here  we  should  have  a  plural- 
istic w^orld  view  only.  It  would  only  be  necessary  to  postu- 
late for  the  monad  beings,  absolute  originality;  make  them 
absolutely  first  in  the  world  building,  and  add  this  further 
postulate,  that  each  one  can  act  for  the  whole  and  purposed 
the  unity  and  harmony  of  the  world,  and  this  doctrine  would 
obviously  be  pluralism.  But  Leibniz's  doctrine  is  only  in 
part  pluralistic;  to  set  up  the  two  postulates  I  have  suggested, 
in  Leibniz's  view  would  be  a  begging  of  the  whole  question ; 
it  would  cut  the  knot  of  the  world  problem,  not  untie  it. 
Whence  came  such  beings  as  these  monads  ?     How  is  the 


88  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

individual  monad  able  to  act,  both  as  an  individual  and  at 
the  same  time  so  as  to  transcend  its  mere  individual  exist- 
ence, nay  to  act  as  if  it  were  the  One  which  contains  the 
many  p  These  two  problems,  that  of  the  source  and  basis 
of  the  monad  world,  and  that  of  the  preestablished  har- 
mony between  the  monads  lead  to  the  other  part  of 
Leibniz's  doctrine,  the  monistic  side  of  his  world  view. 

Leibniz  clearly  teaches  that  the  monads  owe  their  existence 
to  God  whom  he  conceives  as  a  Unitary  Being,  distinguish- 
able in  his  essence  and  his  mode  of  existence  from  monad 
beings,  which  are  in  some  rather  ineffable  way  derived  from 
this  original  Being.  He  also  teaches  that  the  monads  not 
only  owe  their  existence  to  the  creative  act  of  God  as  the 
supreme  monad,  but  also  that  they  continue  to  depend  upon 
that  same  power  for  their  existence  and  their  powers  of 
action;  indeed,  so  complete  is  the  dependence  upon  God, 
that  Leibniz,  in  one  passage,  says  of  these  monads,  they  are 
born  of  his  essence  from  moment  to  moment;  and  he  char- 
acterizes them  as  fulgurations,  or  rayings  forth  of  God's 
nature.  It  is  true  that  Leibniz  distinctly  affirms  that  con- 
tinued and  intimate  dependence  of  the  monads  does  not 
deprive  them  of  substance  being  and  of  self-originating 
activities;  and  he  emphatically  denies  that  his  system  is 
close  aldn  to  the  system  of  Spinoza,  which  he  characterizes 
as  the  production  of  a  *' subtle  but  profane  philosopher." 
But  cannot  the  follower  of  Spinoza  legitimately  ask:  Where- 
in, after  all,  is  there  a  material  difference  between  the  two 
world  views  ?  So  far  as  his  relation  to  the  monads  is  con- 
cerned, in  what  particular  is  there  a  significant  difference 
between  the  God  of  Leibniz  and  the  substance  of  Spinoza  ? 
If  as   Leibniz  teaches,  the  monads    derive    their    nature. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  89 

their  powers  of  action,  their  possibility  of  becoming  what 
they  become,  if  this  is  altogether  derived  from  God,  pray 
what  important  difference  is  there  between  the  monads  and 
the  modi  of  Spinoza?  And  furthermore,  if  these  monads 
must  constantly  be  preserved  in  being,  and  in  whatever  they 
do  are  constantly  deriving  their  power  to  act  from  God, 
pray,  what  have  these  monads,  either  of  capacity  or  activity 
that  is  really  their  own  ?  Are  they  not  in  their  essential 
nature  just  what  they  were  made  to  be  ?  And  do  they  not 
act  in  accordance  with  their  nature?  How  then  do  they 
differ  from  the  individual  beings  in  Spinoza's  monism  ? 
Again,  is  not  the  doctrine  of  Leibniz  as  deterministic  as 
that  of  Spinoza?  Can  the  monad-beings  act  otherwise 
than  they  do  act,  he  other  than  they  are?  Each  monad 
acts  from  its  own  nature;  but  its  nature  is  not  original,  but 
derived  from  the  one  only  fountain  Source  of  Being.  Do 
not  then,  the  natures,  the  actions,  the  characters  of  these 
individual  beings  go  back  to  the  nature,  the  power  of  the 
One  Underived  Being?  If  this  is  admitted,  must  it  not 
be  said  of  Leibniz's  monads,  that  each  is  in  reality  but  an 
expression  of  the  Being  he  calls  God  ?  Each  monad  ex- 
presses the  nature,  the  meaning  of  the  Absolute  Being,  in  a 
particular  and  finite  manner,  or  in  a  finite  mode  of  being  ? 
If  this  question  must  be  answered  in  the  affirmative,  how 
can  the  follower  of  Leibniz  meet  the  challenge  to  show  in 
what  particular  these  monad  beings  differ  from  the  indi- 
vidual beings  which  Spinoza  calls  the  modi  of  the  one 
substance,  God? 

Such  are  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  Leibniz's  attempt 
to  hold  a  middle  course  between  monism  and  pluralism. 
Are  not  such  difficulties  inevitable,  if  a  thinker  undertakes 


90  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

to  conceive  a  world  which  shall  have  in  it  both  an  Absolute 
Being  as  the  One,  and  other  beings  which  shall  be  real  in 
any  other  manner  than  as  states  or  functions  of  the  Only 
Substance — Being?  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  impossible  to 
solve  the  problem  of  the  One  and  the  many  in  any  other 
terms  than  either  monism  or  pluralism;  but  up  to  the  present 
time  no  such  solution  has  been  given.  I  do  not  think  we 
can  accept  Leibniz's  solution  of  the  problem;  and  in  my 
opinion  it  is  the  best  philosophical  undertaking  of  this  kind 
which  has  yet  been  attempted. 

Our  conclusion  of  this  matter  must  therefore  be  that, 
while  we  are  not  able  to  say  the  problem  of  the  One  and  the 
many  is  insoluble,  we  can  say  it  is  not  yet  solved.  K  we 
are  dissatisfied  with  both  the  monistic  and  the  pluralistic 
world  views  we  can  disprove  neither,  and  if  we  believe 
either  one,  we  must  confess  our  philosophy  cannot  prove 
what  faith  holds  true,  or  if  we  believe  as  does  Leibniz,  we 
must,  I  think,  admit  it  is  not  for  the  reasons  by  w  hich  Leib- 
niz sought  to  establish  the  truth  of  what  he  believed.  Our 
philosophizing  does  not  create  our  beliefs;  and  there  are  be- 
liefs which  we  find  it  necessary  and  rational  to  hold,  but 
which  philosophy  has  not  as  yet,  and  may  never  verify. 
The  monist  doubtless  finds  it  reasonable,  yes,  finds  it  neces- 
sary to  beheve  in  the  One  All  and  Only  Real  Being;  but  he 
has  not  yet  been  able  to  prove  that  he  is  right  in  his  behef . 
So  with  the  pluralist,  who  intensely  believes  in  his  many  as 
the  only  real  existing  beings,  and  finds  it  both  satisfying  and 
rational  to  cherish  this  belief.  Against  the  monist  he  can- 
not clearly  establish  the  truth  of  his  conception  of  the  world; 
and  likewise  the  believer  in  the  reality  of  the  One  and  the 
many;  he  too,  may  hold  fast  what  he  thinks  true  in  both 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  91 

monism  and  pluralism,  but  he  must  at  the  same  time  con- 
fess he  cannot  see  how  the  part  truths  are  one;  he  will  find 
it  necessary  and  rational  to  hold  that  God  is  truly  all  in  all, 
and  not  less  firmly  to  hold  that  we  are  truly  selves,  with  wills 
of  our  own  and  power  on  the  world;  he  sees  no  contradiction 
in  saying,  **  Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how,  our  wills  | 
are  ours  to  make  them  thine." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SOUL  AND  ITS  CONNECTION  WITH 
THE  BODY 

Respecting  the  soul  three  questions  confront  us,  (1) 
What  is  the  original  and  fundamental  function  of  the  soul  ? 
(2)  What  is  the  nature  of  the  soul  ?  (3)  How  are  we  to 
conceive  of  the  relation  between  mind  and  body?  The 
first  of  these  questions  is  psychological,  the  other  two  are 
metaphysical. 

We  assume  that  soul,  mind,  self,  ego  are  terms  which 
designate  the  same  reality.  And  taking  these  questions  in 
their  order,  we  meet  at  the  outset  two  opposed  psychological 
doctrines.  The  doctrine  of  voluntarism,  which  asserts  that 
the  original  and  primary  fundamental  function  of  the  soul 
is  will.  The  other  doctrine  opposed  to  this  asserts  that 
not  will,  but  intellect  has  the  primacy,  both  in  genesis  and 
in  importance.  This  conception  we  will  call  the  intellectu- 
alistic  doctrine  of  the  soul.  Of  these  conceptions  the  intel- 
lectualistic  is  the  older  and  has  for  the  most  part  been  the 
prevalent  doctrine.  The  voluntaristic  view,  however,  has 
been  gaining  ground  in  more  recent  years.  It  came  in  as 
the  consequence  of  the  extension  of  the  theory  of  evolution 
to  the  mental  life  of  man;  and  the  consequent  adoption  of 
the  biological  point  of  view  in  the  interpretation  of  mind. 
The  voluntarist  maintains  that  in  the  order  of  genesis,  will 
is  prior  to  intellect,  action,  impulse,  feeling-prompted  re- 
actions   to    environmental    conditions    precede    intelligent 

92 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  93 

behavior;  intellect  comes  in  later,  is  subordinate  to  the  will; 
it  is  the  will's  instrument,  it  functions  for  ends  which  will  sets. 
The  primacy  belongs  to  the  active  nature  of  man;  feeling  and 
action  are  supreme.  Intellect  is  the  instrument  by  means  of 
which  the  satisfaction  of  wants,  the  attainments  of  ends,  the 
fulfillment  of  purpose  are  accomplished.  Intellect  there- 
fore is  subordinate,  and  works  in  the  service  of  the  feeling 
and  volitional  nature. 

Against  this  view,  the  intellectualist  contends,  that  the 
original  activity  of  the  soul  is  cognitive.  Feeling  and  will 
are  reactions,  and  presuppose  a  something  cognized,  how- 
ever vaguely.  Only  as  feeling  becomes  defined  in  its  object, 
only  as  will  activity  is  intellectualized,  is  intelligently  directed, 
is  it  effective  for  life  ends.  The  conception  of  ends,  the 
formation  of  purposes,  the  setting  of  goals  of  action  are 
intellectual  functions.- 

Nor  is  it  true  that  there  are  no  independent  values  attach- 
ing to  intellect  itself;  that  there  are  not  theoretic  as  well  as 
practical  interests.  Truth  and  knowledge  are  values  not 
less  than  pleasure.  Feelings  and  will  do  not  constitute  all 
values;  theoretic  activity  has  a  value  of  its  own;  and  it  is  not 
altogether  subordinate  or  instrumental  in  relation  to  will. 
We  shall  come  to  this  matter  again  in  the  discussion  of 
theories  of  knowledge;  and  we  will  therefore  pass  on  to  the 
metaphysical  problem  of  the  soul. 

And  here  we  meet  two  doctrines  concerning  the  nature 
of  the  soul:  (1)  The  substantialist's  doctrine,  which  con- 
ceives the  soul  as  a  substance  being,  which  is  distinct  from 
the  various  acts  and  states  such  as  perception,  thinking, 
feeling,  wilhng,  etc. ;  (2)  The  phenomenon-conception,  which 
makes  the  essence  of  the  soul  consist  in  the  sum  total  of 


94  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

psychical  acts  and  states,  bound  together  into  a  unity  which 
is  relatively  persistent  and  stable. 

The  substance  doctrine  of  the  soul  is  the  traditional  belief, 
and  is  the  popular  view.  The  plain  man  thinks  of  his  soul, 
mind,  or  ego  or  self,  as  something  which  is  quite  distinct 
from  his  various  temporary  and  ever  changing  mental  states 
and  activities.  His  mind  is  as  good  a  substance  as  the 
material  objects  about  him  or  his  own  body;  and  he  no  more 
identifies  the  essence  or  real  being  of  his  soul  with  its  chang- 
ing states,  than  he  identifies  the  real  being  of  a  material  body 
with  the  various  qualities  it  possesses  or  actions  of  which  it  is 
capable.  This  view  of  the  soul  has  back  of  it  a  long  philo- 
sophic tradition;  its  upholders  can  number  not  a  few  very 
reputable  thinkers.  I  will  now  develop  the  philosophic 
argument  for  this  conception. 

1.  The  Argument  from  Consciousness. — The  substan- 
tialist  appeals  to  immediate  experience,  to  the  testimony  of 
consciousness.  Self  consciousness  is  awareness  of  our  own 
existence  as  a  being.  Immediate  experience  gives  the  self 
or  ego  as  a  datum;  we  experience  our  self  or  ego  as  doing  and 
suffering,  as  acting  and  being  affected  by  action  upon  it. 
The  substance  being  of  the  ego  is  a  datum  of  immediate 
experience;  it  is  the  implication  of  self  consciousness. 

2.  The  Argument  from  Cognitive  Experience. — In  cogni- 
tive experience,  there  is  a  necessary  recognition  of  activity; 
knowing  is  an  activity;  a  subject  knowing,  and  an  object 
known  are  two  inseparable  terms  in  the  cognitive  relation. 
Only  a  being  can  be  a  knower,  can  cognitively  act;  only  a 
being  can  perceive,  think,  reason,  etc.  This  distinction  of 
subject  and  object  in  knowing  is  constituted  by  an  act  of  a 
distinguishing  subject.     The  object  is  object  only  as  it  is 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  95 

made  so,  as  it  is  objectified,  set  out  for  operation  and 
determined  by  an  active  being.  Thinking  and  judging 
imply  the  action  of  some  being  upon  matter  of  experience, 
presented  to  this  being.  To  judge  is  to  assert,  to  assert  is 
an  altogether  active  affair;  it  is  an  attitude  taken  toward 
a  presented  or  suggested  subject  matter  of  some  sort.  As- 
sertion is  not  less  an  action  than  is  willing — indeed,  it  may 
be  called  a  form  of  willing;  it  is  the  choice  or  decision 
that  something  presented  be  real.  Again,  knowing  in- 
volves a  unifying,  a  synthesizing  activity;  this  synthetic 
activity  involved  in  knowing  is  no  formal  unity;  it  im- 
plicates an  active  being,  the  form  of  whose  action  is  syn- 
thetic and  unifying. 

Our  knowing  therefore  viewed  in  any  particular  aspect, 
has  for  its  necessary  presupposition  an  active  being;  for 
knowledge  is  constructive;  in  knowing  we  make  or  remake 
the  real  world;  a  knower  is  in  some  degree  a  maker,  a 
transformer  of  the  world  he  knows.  Only  a  being  distin- 
guishable from  his  action  in  knowing  as  well  as  from  the 
reality  he  knows,  can  be  a  knower. 

3.  The  Argument  jrom  Active  Experience. — Willing, 
voluntary  action,  purposing,  deliberating,  deciding — these 
are  facts  which  only  the  supposition  of  a  truly  existing  being 
can  explain.  Add  to  these  the  facts  of  ethical  experience; 
conduct  judged  as  good  or  bad,  approbation,  disapprobation, 
regret,  remorse,  and  we  have  a  group  of  facts  and  forms  of 
experience,  for  any  adequate  imderstanding  of  which  we 
must  postulate  a  being,  who  sets  before  him  ends  to  be 
realized  by  his  action.  Who  values  as  well  as  knows;  who 
seeks  good  and  avoids  evil;  who  judges  his  actions,  their 
motives,  his  character  and  disposition;  and  feels  complacency 


96  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

or  disapprobation  according  to  the  judgment  he  passes  upon 
himself.  This  moral  agent  must  be  an  individual,  an  origi- 
nating center  of  actions,  the  home  of  unique  interests,  and 
unshared  experiences.  Only  a  substance  being  can  thus  be 
individual,  original,  and  unique.  Such  a  being  is  the  only 
explanation  of  ethical  experience. 

There  is  another  kind  of  experience  which  demands  the 
same  recognition  of  the  human  self  as  substance  being — 
religion.  The  religious  relation  involves  a  duahty,  and  a 
duality  of  beings  of  the  same  order;  the  other,  the  greater, 
the  more  powerful  and  better  than  we,  we  must  conceive  as 
being,  never  as  a  phenomenon  or  mode.  And  we  who 
fear,  who  reverence,  who  trust,  who  cling  in  faith  to  this 
greater  being,  must  conceive  ourselves  as  beings  also.  The 
entire  transaction  of  religious  experience  is  meaningless  on 
any  other  view  of  our  human  selves. 

So  runs  the  argument  for  the  substance  being  of  the  soul. 
What  reply  can  the  upholder  of  the  phenomenon  conception 
of  the  soul  make  to  this  reasoning  ?  He  will  in  the  first  place 
ask  that  his  doctrine  be  understood.  He  does  not  deny  the 
reality  of  soul  life,  nor  any  of  the  facts  of  experience.  As 
little  does  the  phenomenalist  call  in  question  the  alleged  facts 
of  moral  and  religious  experience.  The  issue  between  him 
and  the  substantialist  centers  on  the  kind  of  real  being  which 
must  belong  to  the  human  soul  or  ego.  The  position  of  the 
phenomenalist  is,  that  our  immediate  experience  gives  no 
knowledge  of  such  a  being,  as  the  substantialist  maintains; 
nor  is  it  necessary  to  suppose  such  a  being  in  order  to  explain 
the  facts  of  our  human  experience.  The  phenomenalist 
directly  challenges  the  first  argument  for  the  substance 
being  of  the  soul.     Our  immediate  experience,  he  contends. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  97 

does  not  contain  this  soul  being  as  a  datum.  The  testimony 
of  consciousness  only  means  that  we  are  conscious  of  having 
a  belief  in  a  self  or  soul  as  a  really  existing  being  and  which 
is  distinct  from  the  various  acts  and  states  that  are  the  con- 
tent of  our  direct  experience.  Consciousness  does  not 
testify  to  anything;  it  is  simply  awareness  of  the  various 
acts  and  states  themselves,  not  of  a  being  which  is  the  sub- 
ject, the  cause  of  these  experiences.  Thus  does  the  first 
argument  of  the  substantialist  break  down;  it  is  based  upon 
an  inadmissible  psychology. 

Nor,  continues  the  phenomenalist,  does  the  analysis  of 
cognitive  experience  yield  a  soul  substance  as  the  necessary 
implication  of  knowledge  or  thinking.  Perceiving,  remem- 
bering, thinking,  etc.,  have  all  the  meaning  we  can  give  to 
them  in  themselves;  we  do  not  add  to  their  meaning  or  make 
their  existence  more  intelligible  by  making  them  the  activities 
and  states  of  a  substance  of  some  sort  which  is  in  itself 
other  than  and  distinct  from  these  activities  and  states. 
Why  there  are  such  things  as  these  particular  mental  pro- 
cesses is  a  question  which  could  perhaps  be  answered  by 
an  All-Knower,  since  the  reason  for  these  particular  ex- 
periences must  be  found  in  the  world  reality.  We  certainly 
are  not  helped  by  the  supposition  of  a  lot  of  so-called  soul 
beings,  endowed  with  specific  faculties  for  performing  these 
actions,  or  for  having  these  special  modes  of  experience. 
The  point  urged  is,  that  the  hypothesis  of  soul  beings  is  not 
the  only  one  we  can  frame,  nor  is  it  so  good  a  supposition  as 
the  one  suggested.  The  substantialist  should  be  more 
thoroughgoing  in  his  search  for  an  ultimate  explanation  of 
the  facts  of  common  experience.  The  second  argument  of 
the  substantialist,  that  from  cognitive  experience,  is  not  there- 


98  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

fore  conclusive.  Nor  is  the  third  argument  for  the  sub- 
stance conception  of  the  soul  better  supported  by  evidence. 
Our  active  experiences,  including  the  ethical  and  religious 
life,  no  more  demand  the  assumption  of  a  soul-substance 
than  do  the  other  parts  of  our  experience.  Will  actions  do 
not  require  the  supposition  of  a  willing  being  as  distinct 
from  these  forms  of  activity,  any  more  than  do  our  cognitive 
activities.  Nor  are  our  moral  experiences  made  more 
intelligible  by  this  theory  of  a  substance-being.  That 
which  has  ethical  significance,  on  which  the  value  judgment 
good  or  bad  passes,  are  actions  and  their  motives,  the  in- 
tentions and  purposes  from  which  they  proceed.  These 
are  all  that  is  necessary  to  constitute  ethical  experience;  our 
ethical  judgments  do  not  go  back  of  these  actions  them- 
selves. The  case  is  the  same  with  our  religious  experience, 
the  significance,  the  worth  of  religion  remains  the  same, 
whether  we  suppose  that  over  and  above  these  individual 
modes  of  experience,  there  are  so  many  substance  beings  to 
which  these  experiences  are  attached.  Humility,  trust, 
joyous  confidence  and  hope  which  come  from  a  conscious- 
ness of  sharing  a  vaster,  more  enduring  and  friendly  life — 
these  which  are  the  content  of  religion  are  not  affected  by 
any  conception  we  may  have  of  the  source  or  the  reason  of 
these  experiences. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  phenomenalist  attempts  to 
show  that  a  soul-substance  is  neither  necessary  nor  ser- 
viceable in  explaining  our  mental  life.  There  are,  he 
maintains,  some  features  of  mind  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
harmonize  with  the  substance  conception  of  the  soul.  One 
is  the  continuity  and  identity  of  personal  consciousness. 
Our  mental  existence  is  an  ever  changing  thing,  a  stream  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  99 

consciousness;  but  despite  incessant  change  there  is  con- 
tinuity and  personal  identity.  If  we  make  this  continuity 
and  personal  identity  functional  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
harmonizing  them  with  the  flux  character  of  our  mental 
existence;  but  if  we  hold  to  the  substance  being  of  the  soul, 
how  are  we  to  harmonize  this  flux  character  of  our  mental 
life  with  this  soul  substance?  Does  this  substance  soul 
remain  the  same,  and  so  preserve  a  static  identity  through- 
out this  entire  existence  ?  If  so,  whence  the  changing  states  ? 
Does  it  enter  into  change  itself,  or  in  its  own  very  essence, 
change  ?  If  so,  what  is  it  more  than  activity,  or  a  phenom- 
enon ?  To  harmonize  the  substance  being  of  the  mind 
with  the  fact  of  changing  mental  states  is  the  dilemma  before 
the  substantialist. 

Another  fact  gives  rather  serious  difficulty  to  this  theory 
of  mind.  It  is  those  cases  of  secondary  or  multiplex  person- 
ality, with  which  abnormal  psychology  has  made  us  familiar. 
There  are  individuals  who  present  in  succession,  sometimes 
in  alternation,  mental  lives  so  unlike  to  each  other  in  every 
feature  characteristic  of  personality,  that  it  must  be  said 
that  two  and  even  more  distinct  personal  lives  go  on  in  the 
same  individual.  Thinking,  feeling,  willing  disposition, 
character — ^in  short  whatever  we  regard  as  the  mark  of 
personality,  are  exhibited  by  each  of  these  different  groups 
of  mental  states.  Now  if  we  understand  by  a  soul  or  mind 
a  definite  complex  or  group  of  mental  states  and  activities, 
so  organized  as  to  maintain  under  normal  conditions,  a 
uniform  and  harmonious  and  stable  existence,  but  liable 
under  certain  conditions  to  disruption,  disintegration,  and 
the  formation  of  profoundly  different  complexes,  we  can 
readily  understand  how  such  alterations  in  personality  are 


100  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

possible.  But  with  the  soul  conceived  as  a  substance,  how 
are  these  profound  mutations,  these  multipHcations  of  per- 
sonality-life conceivable?  What  becomes  of  the  one  soul 
being  in  this  plurality  of  psychic  personalities  ?  We  seem 
to  have  here  another  dilemma  for  the  substantialist.  Is  he 
not  driven  to  the  admission  that  the  one  soul-being,  while 
preserving  its  essential,  identical  nature,  manifests  itself  in 
mental  acts  and  states  which  are  so  profoundly  different, 
nay  opposed  in  character,  or  if  he  does  not  take  this  horn  of 
the  dilemma,  can  he  escape  the  other,  namely,  the  admission 
that  the  soul  substance  changes  completely  its  nature,  which 
means  it  becomes  another  soul-substance  ?  The  alternative 
which  the  substantialist  faces  would  appear  to  be,  either  one 
and  the  same  soul  substance  and  a  plurality  of  psychic  person- 
alities which  are  more  or  less  contradictory,  or  a  plurality  of 
soul  substances  more  or  less  alternating  in  their  existence. 
We  must  now  take  up  the  remaining  problem  relating 
to  the  soul,  the  connection  between  mind  and  body.  The 
way  one  conceives  of  this  connection,  is  determined  by  his 
general  conception  of  being.  For  the  dualist,  this  connec- 
tion presents  the  problem  of  two  fundamentally  different 
kinds  of  being,  uniting  somehow  to  form  one  individual 
existence,  conjoined  in  one  mental-bodily  life.  The  dualist 
may  conceive  the  relation  between  mind  and  body,  either 
as  one  of  interaction  or  of  correspondence,  or  of  parallelism. 
Popular  dualism  holds  the  interaction  view;  the  difficulty  it 
involves  does  not  occur  to  the  naive  mind.  Interaction  was 
the  conception  of  Descartes;  but  the  difficulty  it  involved 
did  not  escape  his  followers;  and  they  abandoned  it  for  a 
parallelistic  view,  helped  out  by  a  singular  hypothesis,  that 
of  occasionalism.     Descartes  does  not  appear  to  have  seen 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  101 

that  only  a  miracle  could  unite  in  a  form  of  reciprocal  action 
his  two  substances,  res  co gitans  a,nd  res  extensa.     His  attempt 
to  show  how  each  does  really  act  upon  the  other  must    I 
think,  remain  an  inexplicable  piece  of  philosophical  think- 
ing, on  the  part  of  a  thinker  whose  thought  is  elsewhere  so 
clear  and  consistent.     He  supposed  that  in  a  particular 
region  of  the  brain,  the  pineal  gland,  the  two  substances 
came  into  a  dynamic  relation,  corporeal  motions  at  this 
point    inducing    mental    processes.     The   continuators    of 
Descartes'  philosophy  saw  what  seemed  to  them  insuperable 
difficulties   in  their  master's   doctrine   at  this   point;   and 
abandoned  the  theory  of  a  passing  influence,  and  boldly  had 
recourse  to  an  essentially  miraculous  agency.     Mind  does 
not  act  upon  the  body,  but  on  the  occasion  of  every  change  or 
action  in  each,   God  the  creator  of  both  substances,   by 
immediate  agency  produces  the  corresponding  state  or  activ- 
ity.    And  thus  is  the  harmony  between  mind  and  body 
maintained.     The  processes  and  changes  in  each  are  made 
to  run  parallel,  and  to  correspond,  by  means  of  the  constant 
agency  of  God.     This  is  the  famous  doctrine  of  occasional- 
ism.    But  the  dualist  can  lessen  this  element  of  miracle  by 
supposing  the  two  substances  were  so  created,  that  their 
acts  and  states  correspond,  or  run  parallel  without  the  need 
of  any  subsequent  interposition.     The  harmony  might  be 
preestablished,  like  two  clocks,  so  skillfully  made  as  to  keep 
time  together  without  need  of  interference  or  correction. 
The  conception  then  becomes  that  of  simple  parallelism. 
In  the  monism  of  Spinoza,  and  also  in  agnostic  monism, 
the  relation   between   mind  and   body  is   likewise  one  of 
parallehsm;  mind  and  body  being  modes  or  phenomenal 
manifestations   of  this   One  substance, 'tht>   parallelism  "is 


102  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

between  phenomena,  not  between  beings.  For  the  idealist, 
inasmuch  as  the  body  is  a  phenomenon  of  the  mind,  neither 
interaction  nor  paralleHsm  is  a  possible  conception;  and  for 
the  same  reason,  for  the  materialist,  who  makes  mind  a 
phenomenon  of  the  body,  neither  interaction  nor  parallelism 
is  admissible.  The  possible  views  of  the  relation  of  mind 
and  body  therefore,  are  three  as  follows : 

1.  Interaction. — The  popular  view  and  held  by  Descartes. 

2.  ParalleHsm. — Held  by  duaHsts  and  by  monists  of  the 
type  of  Spinoza  and  by  agnostic  monists. 

3.  PhenomenaHsm. — ^mind  made  the  phenomenon  of  the 
body — materialists'  view;  body  made  the  phenomenon  of 
the  mind — idealists'  view. 


^ 


CHAPTER  VI 
COSMOLOGY 

The  problems  which  will  occupy  us  in  this  division  of  our 
study  are  the  following: 

I.  The  problem  of  Space  and  Time. 
II.  Uniformity  of  Nature  and  Causation. 
III.  The  Mechanical  and  the  Teleological  Methods   of 

Explanation. 
Taking  the  problems  in  their  order,  we  proceed  with 

I.  THE  CONCEPTIONS  OF  SPACE  AND  TIME 

The  Conception  of  Space 

To  the  plain  man,  to  the  uncritical  mind,  space  means 
something  objective,  as  much  so  as  objects  which  we  seem 
to  perceive  in  space.  The  plain  man  says  space  is  inde- 
pendent of  anybody's  perception  of  it.  It  is  distinct  from, 
yes,  separable  from  objects  which  occupy  it.  Each  object 
which  we  perceive  occupies  some  definite  region  of  this 
space,  and  takes  up  some  portion  of  it,  to  the  exclusion  of 
other  objects  from  the  same  space.  But  any  one  of  these 
objects  can  change  its  position  in  space,  can  occupy  some 
other  portion  of  space  and  be  in  other  respects  the  same 
object;  and  the  space  which  this  object  occupies  remains 
unchanged  by  the  object's  presence  in,  or  absence  from,  that 

region  of  space;  nay,  were  all  objects  suddenly  to  vanish,  or 

103 


104  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

be  annihilated,  the  space  they  occupied  would  remain  the 
same,  onl}-  it  would  be  empty  space.  The  most  prominent 
feature  of  space  is  out-ness,  and  spread-out-ness.  It  is  the 
field  in  which  all  objects  of  our  perception  exist.  This 
field  we  conceive  to  be  infinite;  we  can  draw  no  final  boun- 
daries; any  limit  we  set  necessitates  a  step  beyond,  there  is 
always  an  unbounded  extent  lying  outside  any  enclosure  of 
space.  It  is  in  the  space  field  that  we  locate  all  our  percep- 
tions, those  of  sound  and  smell,  and  taste,  not  less  than  the 
unmistakably  spatial  perceptions  of  sight  and  touch. 

In  the  space  field,  every  object  exists  in  definite  space 
relations  to  other  objects,  to  ourselves,  the  percipient,  and  to 
every  imagined  percipient;  these  relations  are  position, 
distance  and  direction.  Each  object  in  space  has  a  definable 
form,  and  its  boundary  lines  have  a  definite  extent.  There 
is  a  quantum  as  well  as  a  form  of  space-occupancy  in  the 
case  of  every  object  of  our  perceptions.  Each  object  in 
space  presents  three  dimensions:  it  has  simple  linear  exten- 
sion or  length;  it  has  a  surface,  this  surface  having  boundary 
lines  which  thus  enclose  a  portion  of  space;  each  object  also 
presents  a  third  dimension,  which  is  constituted  by  a  linear 
extension  from  the  percipient,  or  by  a  line  that  is  perpendic- 
ular to  its  surface.  Length,  breadth,  depth  or  thickness 
are  the  terms  which  designate  these  dimensions  in  space.  We 
have  observed  that  space  is  of  illimitable  extent;  there  is  no 
absolute  maximum  of  space  extension;  in  another  direction 
of  view,  space  is  infinite,  there  is  no  absolute  minimum 
of  space  extension,  space  is  infinitely  devisible.  A  physical 
object  may  not  be  susceptible  of  such  division,  the  limit  of 
physical  division  or  separation  into  parts  may  be  reached,  but 
we  could   never  reach  a  minimal  portion  of  space. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  105 

Another  characteristic  of  space  must  be  noted,  that  is,  its 
absolute  continuity.  Divisions  of  space  are  not  separa- 
tions between  parts  of  it,  it  does  not  part;  between  any  two 
portions  however  small,  be  they  mere  points,  another  por- 
tion can  be  put,  another  point  be  placed.  Space  is  not  dis- 
continuous, there  are  no  gaps  within  it.  The  discrete  parts, 
the  portions  of  space  which  our  attention  selects  and  which 
we  abstract  and  so  separate  from  their  context,  do  not 
represent  the  space  of  our  experience,  but  are  our  artificial 
mode  of  dealing  with  the  concrete  reality,  either  for  theoret- 
ical or  for  certain  practical  ends.  The  famous  argument  of 
Zeno  to  disprove  the  reality  of  motion  was  based  upon  the 
assumption  that  space  is  a  discrete  quantity.  The  argu- 
ment assumes  that  space  mathematically  divided  gives  an 
infinite  series  whose  terms  are  discrete  quantities.  The 
reasoning  overlooks  the  continuity  of  space,  the  fluent 
character  of  real  space.  Assuming  that  space  can  be  sub- 
divided so  as  to  form  a  series  of  the  same  character  as  a 
decreasing  geometrical  series,  and  consequently  assuming 
that  motion  through  space  is  a  process  of  the  same  sort  as 
the  summation  of  an  infinite  decreasing  series,  it  was  easy 
to  prove  that  Achilles  would  never  overtake  the  tortoise. 
Two  errors  closely  kin  underlie  this  ancient  sophism;  one 
is  that  space  itself,  the  space  of  our  experience,  is  discretely 
divisible;  the  other  error  is  the  assumption  that  motion  in 
space  is  a  process  of  the  same  nature  as  the  summation  of  a 
mathematical  series.  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  locus  of 
the  fallacy  in  Zeno's  argument  has  been  a  puzzle  to  the 
formal  logicians,  that  so  eminent  a  logician  as  Bishop 
Whately  could  find  no  logical  fallacy  in  this  reasoning. 
The  fallacy  is  extra-logical,  it  is  a  metaphysical  error. 


106  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

Time 

Though  less  distinctly,  time  to  the  ordinary  view  appears 
to  have  objective  reality  as  truly  as  space.  We  distinguish 
time  from  the  things  we  put  in  time,  events,  changes,  our 
ever-passing  thoughts;  we  imagine  time  would  go  on,  would 
flow,  as  a  stream,  did  nothing  come  into  existence  or  pass 
out  of  it. 

We  can  best  bring  to  our  minds  the  properties  of  time  by 
comparing  time  with  space.  Space,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
out  and  spread  out,  it  is  a  field.  Time  is  not  out  or 
spread  out,  it  is  not  a  field.  Time  is  an  order,  the  charac- 
teristic of  which  is  succession,  one-after-another,  a  nach- 
einander — while  space  is  a  bei-einander.  Hence,  viewed 
in  a  quantitative  aspect,  time  has  but  one  dimension;  if 
we  represent  a  motion  which  follows  the  time  order,  that 
motion  can  be  in  but  one  direction,  as  the  boat  which  follows 
the  flow  of  the  river  can  move  in  only  one  direction.  In 
space,  motion  can  be  in  any  direction,  to  space  it  is  indif- 
ferent what  that  direction  is.  Both  time  and  space  are 
continuous  quantities  (taken  in  their  quantitative  aspect), 
but  space  has  static  continuity,  while  the  continuity  of  time 
is  fluent;  the  parts  of  space  do  not  move,  while  the  parts  of 
time  are  never  at  rest.  As  with  space,  so  with  time,  in  our 
conceptual  treatment  of  it  we  break  time  up  into  discrete 
successive  moments  and  periods,  as  if  there  were  gaps 
between  the  successive  portions  of  time.  And  inasmuch 
as  we  represent  change  and  motion  in  time,  we  likewise 
break  up  what  in  itself  is  a  continuous  process  without  parts 
into  separable  stages  and  phases,  and  think  of  the  motion  of 
a  body  as  the  occupancy  of  separated  portions  of  space  in 
successive,    but   really   separated   intervals   of   time.     And 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  107 

change  we  are  wont  to  conceive  as  if  it  consisted  of  separable 
states  of  a  body,  or  process,  between  which  there  is  a  gap, 
in  which  change  is  not  going  on.  The  truth  is,  that  motion 
and  change  are  continuous  processes.  The  appearance  of 
the  body  A  at  different  points  in  space,  in  successive  mo- 
ments of  time,  is  not  the  fact  of  motion  of  A;  that  fact  is  the 
continuous  passage  of  A  through  these  portions  of  space  in 
successive  portions  of  time.  The  occupancy  of  different 
portions  of  space  in  successive  moments  of  time  is  an  incident 
to  the  motion  of  the  body.  So  with  change:  The  body  A 
changes,  it  passes,  we  will  suppose,  into  different  states 
during  a  measurable  time-period;  at  the  present  moment, 
it  is  A,  at  the  next  distinguishable  moment  it  is  A-a,  at  the 
next  A-b-a,  etc.,  but  the  different  states  of  the  body  A  flow 
into  each  other,  just  as  the  successive  time  moments.  A, 
passing  into,  or  becoming  A-a  is  the  fact  of  change;  just  as 
a  *'now, '*  passing  into  the  '*not  yet"  is  the  fact  of  time. 

A  somewhat  intimate  relation  exists  between  space  and 
time  whatever  be  their  ultimate  natures.  Thus,  a  motion  in 
space  is  also  a  process  in  time,  a  moving  body  has  both  a 
spatial  and  a  temporal  character.  Again,  we  represent  the 
interval  between  two  selected  time  moments  by  a  line;  the 
standing  symbol  of  time  is  a  stream,  the  expressions,  the 
flow  of  time,  the  flight  of  time,  these  terms  are  terms  of 
spatial  as  well  as  temporal  connotation.  To  some  extent 
the  things  of  time  are  things  of  space;  but  there  are  some 
facts  of  our  experience  which  we  place  only  in  time,  and 
which  have  no  spatial  character.  Mental  states  are  such 
facts;  ideas,  sensations,  thought,  feeling,  purpose,  etc.,  have 
no  spatial  attributes;  they  exist  only  in  time.  Indeed,  it  is 
a  distinction   between  the  physical  and  the  mental,  that 


108  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

physical  objects  and  processes  can  be  both  spatial  and 
temporal,  but  mental  processes  exist  only  in  time. 

We  have  set  forth  the  characters  of  space  and  time  as  we 
know  them  in  our  immediate  experience  and  as  we  conceive 
them  in  abstraction  from  their  content,  i.e.,  from  the  objects 
and  events  which  fill  them.  We  now  come  to  the  question, 
what  are  space  and  time  in  themselves  ?  W^hat  sort  of  real- 
being  do  they  possess  ?  The  metaphysical  problem  of  space 
and  time  is  intimately  connected  with  the  epistemological 
problem  of  our  knowledge  of  space  and  time.  Accordingly 
we  will  first  attack  that  problem. 

Concerning  our  knowledge  of  space  and  time  there  have 
been,  since  knowledge  itself  became  a  philosophical  problem, 
two  doctrines.  One  is  the  doctrine  of  rationalism;  the 
other  is  the  doctrine  of  empiricism.  The  rationalist 
maintains  that  this  knowledge  is  original;  it  is  due  to  a 
specific  endowment,  a  faculty,  a  mode  of  functioning,  which 
is  independent  of  experience.  Sense-experience,  the  opera- 
tion of  things  on  our  minds,  may  be  necessary  to  call  forth 
this  innate  power  of  cognition,  but  this  cognition  itself  is  not 
derived  from  the  experience  in  which  it  arises;  this  knowl- 
edge is  mind-born,  not  something  which  results  from  the 
mind's  experience;  our  ideas  of  space  and  time  are  in  that 
sense  of  the  term  innate  and  a  priori.  The  rationalist 
admits  that  some  of  our  knowledge  relating  to  space  and 
time  is  empirical.  It  is  from  experience  alone  that  we  know 
what  particular  objects  are  in  space,  what  events  transpire 
in  time;  it  is  by  experience  that  we  learn  the  definite  prop- 
erties and  relations  by  which  objects  and  events  are  dis- 
tinguished in  their  spatial  and  temporal  character.  But  the 
rationalist's  contention   is,   this  experiential   knowledge  is 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  109 

made  possible  by  a  non-empirical  knowledge,  this  knowl- 
edge being  the  foundation  on  which  rests  all  our  developed, 
our  special  knowledge.  Experience  is  necessary  to  our 
knowledge  of  that  which  fills  space  or  time,  but  it  does  not 
give  the  knowledge  of  space  and  time  themselves.  In 
proof  of  his  theory,  the  rationalist  appeals  to  the  character 
of  space  and  time  judgments,  which  he  maintains  are  the 
foundation  of  the  exact  sciences.  These  judgments  are 
absolutely  universal;  in  this  respect  they  differ  from  empiri- 
cal judgments,  which  though  capable  of  great  generality 
are  never  universal.  Space  and  time  judgments  are  from 
their  nature  universal;  they  are  seen  to  be  so  when  their 
terms  are  understood;  not  so  with  empirical  judgments; 
there  is  no  necessity  about  them  which  carries  strict  univer- 
sality, as  is  the  case  with  space  and  time  judgments.  Space 
and  time  judgments  are  therefore  valid  for  all  experience. 
Now,  this  certainty  of  their  universal  validity  arises  from  the 
fact  that  they  are  underived  from  experience  and  indepen- 
dent of  it;  on  the  contrary,  a  judgment  which  is  derived  from 
experience  cannot  claim  validity  for  all  possible  experience; 
it  can  claim  validity  only  for  experience  already  had. 

In  opposition  to  this  doctrine,  the  empiricist  maintains 
that  in  respect  to  origin,  our  knowledge  of  space  and 
time  does  not  differ  from  our  knowledge  of  the  objects 
which  exist  in  space,  or  the  events  which  occur  in  time. 
Space  and  time  have  no  existence  or  meaning  apart  from 
the  objects  of  our  perception;  in  their  psychological 
character  they  are  qualities,  or  features,  which  qualify  objects, 
as  truly  as  do  color,  sound,  smell,  resistance,  etc.;  and  these 
spatial  and  temporal  characters  of  things  are  experienced,  as 
are  the  undeniable  qualities  and  relations  of  things.     Space 


no  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

and  time  in  the  abstract,  are  no  more  entities,  known  in  some 
transempirical  way,  than  are  hardness,  color,  sweetness, 
etc.  Space  and  time  are,  therefore,  experientially  known; 
and  apart  from  some  form  of  experience,  we  possess  no 
knowledge  of  them  whatever.  The  truth  appears  to  be  the 
reverse  of  what  the  rationalist  teaches;  space  and  time  are 
not  a  priori  ideas;  they  are  not  presupposed  in  an  experien- 
tial knowledge  which  only  seems  to  yield  them.  On  the 
contrary,  they  presuppose  experience,  both  in  their  genesis 
and  in  their  meaning. 

Nor  does  the  fact  that  space  and  time  judgments  are  at 
the  foundation  of  the  exact  sciences  prove  that  these  judg- 
ments are  independent  of  experience,  for  it  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  the  judgments  which  make  up  these  sciences  that 
they  are  hypothetical,  their  validity  is  not  absolute  or  uncon- 
ditioned, but  is  always  subject  to  the  condition  that  exper- 
ience remain  the  same.  The  highly  abstract  character  of  the 
conceptions  in  these  sciences  enables  us  to  rest  secure  in 
this  assumption.  The  truth  is,  there  are  no  absolutely 
universal  or  unconditionally  valid  judgments,  which  have 
anything  to  do  with  our  world  of  experience;  the  rational- 
ist's necessary  and  consequently  absolutely  universal  judg- 
ments are  not  the  foundation  of  any  of  the  sciences,  not  even 
of  the  so-called  exact  sciences;  these  sciences  have  an 
empirical  basis,  as  much  as  do  the  concrete  sciences. 

In  confirmation  of  his  view,  the  experientialist  appeals  to 
genetic  psychology.  Experiments  and  observations  in  the 
case  of  young  children  show  that  their  space  and  time  per- 
ceptions are  coeval  with  certain  sense  experiences;  the  in- 
fant's space  world  shares  the  character  of  his  world  in  its 
other  features;  that  world  in  its  spatial  aspect  is  a  vague 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  111 

total,  a  *'big,  blooming,  buzzing  confusion."  The  process 
through  which,  from  this  undifferentiated  reahty,  the  child's 
knowledge  grows  defined,  and  passes  into  definite,  richer 
knowledge,  is  wholly  experiential;  no  other  factors  or  mental 
functions  are  to  be  assumed  in  this  development  than  per- 
ception, discrimination,  association,  memory',  abstract 
thinking,  etc.  Nowhere  is  there  need  or  justification  for 
supposing  such  a  transexperiential  function  or  sort  of  knowl- 
edge as  the  rationalist  assumes.  Our  actual  knowledge 
of  space  and  time  being  thus,  from  the  start,  interwoven  with 
our  concrete  experiences,  showing  as  it  does  the  same 
characteristics  of  growth,  development,  it  is  not  only  gratui- 
tous to  suppose  this  knowledge  is  wholly  unique;  but  such 
a  supposition  is  contradicted  by  the  facts  of  our  mental 
development. 

Leaving  this  problem  of  our  space-time  knowledge  we 
come  to  the  more  difiicult  problem  of  the  meaning  or  nature 
of  space  and  time.  What  sort  of  reality  shall  we  predicate 
of  space  and  time  ? 

Regarding  the  nature  of  space  and  time  there  are  two  doc- 
trines. The  one  maintains  that  space  and  time  are  objective, 
and  therefore  would  have  meaning,  would  in  one  sense  exist 
were  our  human  minds  to  vanish.  The  other  doctrine 
asserts  that  space  and  time  have  subjective  reality  only, 
and  consequently,  were  our  minds  to  vanish,  space  and  time 
would  be  no  more.  I  will  first  develop  the  subjectivity 
doctrine.  It  makes  space  and  time  the  two  forms  in  which 
our  perceptive  experience  and  inner  mental  states  are 
arranged;  space  being  the  form  in  which  the  matter  of  our 
sensations  are  arranged,  and  time  the  form  in  which  mental 
states  and  what  we  take  to  be  changes  in  the  external 


112  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

world  are  arranged.     Space  and  time  are  two  modes  of 
synthesis  by  means  of  which  our  experience  is  organized, 
in  the  form  of  objects,   events,  changes,  cause  and  effect 
relations.     Space  and  time  are  for  our  human  knowledge  of 
fundamental  importance,  being  the  two  original  syntheses  or 
forms  of  arrangement  in  which  all  the  data  of  experience 
must  be  apprehended  and  molded,  in  order  to  form  a  world 
of  objects,  or  events,  in  short,  the  world  of  empirical  science. 
But  from  this  meaning  of  space  and  time,  serious  con- 
sequences follow  for  our  world  view.     One  consequence  is, 
that  objects  and  events  are  phenomena,  not  things  in  them- 
selves.    If  we  conceive  of  beings  that  are  not  objects  of 
our  perception,  not  revealed  through  our  time  experience, 
we    must    conceive    them    as    non-spatial,    non-temporal. 
Time  and  space  have  no  relation  to  them;  if  cognitive  and 
possessing  spiritual  life  these  beings  or  this  Being  does  not 
know  space  and  time,  or  rather,  such  beings  do  not  exist 
'  under  the  conditions  of  space  and  time.      But  this  subjec- 
tivity of  space  and  time  carries  with  it  the  ideality  of  the 
entire  world  in  space  and  time.      External  objects,  their 
properties,  motion,  causal  connection,  etc.,  in  being  phe- 
nomena, exist  only  in  and  for  our  human  minds.      The  ex- 
ternal world  viewed  as  to  its  content,  does  not  differ  from 
Berkeley's  world;  the  only  reality  pertaining  to  our  world 
which  is  not  constituted  by  our  minds,  is  what  Kant  called 
things-in-themselves,  and  the  mere  matter  of  sensations,  sup- 
posed to  be  given  by  these  things-in-themselves  or  thing-in- 
itself .      Save  as  the  source  of  our  sensation  data,  things-in- 
themselves  are  outside  the  sphere  of  our  knowledge.     The 
conception  of  thing-in-itself  is  hardly  more  than  a  limitative 
conception;  it  marks  the  limit  of  our  knowledge;  it  also  re- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  113 

minds  us  that  the  Hmit  of  our  knowledge  is  not  the  limit  of 
real  being — also  that  our  mode  of  knowing  is  not  the  only 
mode  of  cognition.  But  thing-in-itself  or  non-spatial-non- 
temporal  reality,  is  for  our  minds  as  truly  a  terra  incognita  as 
Spencer's  unknowable;  space  and  time  set  the  bounds  to  the 
world  of  the  knowable.  When  we  say  of  any  being,  it  is 
in  no  manner  related  to  space  or  time,  we  thereby  confess 
that  we  have  no  positive  knowledge  of  this  being.  The 
limitation  of  our  knowledge  to  phenomena  is  therefore 
one  consequence  which  appears  to  be  inevitable,  if  space 
and  time  are  made  purely  subjective. 

But  another  consequence  follows  from  this  meaning  of 
space  and  time.  If  there  are  beings,  if  there  is  a  Supreme 
Being,  an  ens  realissimum,  inasmuch  as  time  and  space 
have  for  them  no  relevancy,  the  world  to  which  they  belong 
and  our  human  world  are  as  good  as  separated  by  the  whole 
diameter  of  being.  Now,  this  fact  carries  consequences  of 
serious  moment,  for  those  interests  which  are  supreme, 
morality  and  religious  faith. 

Ethical  values,  the  spiritual  life,  are  bound  up  with  the 
reality  of  space  and  time;  apart  from  a  time-process, 
activity,  the  struggle  to  realize  ends,  the  pursuit  of  ideals, 
growth,  development,  in  short,  the  historic  life  of  man,  are 
impossible.  Ethical  distinctions  and  values,  ideals,  lose 
their  content,  if  we  eliminate  the  realities  of  time  and  space. 
An  Ultimate  Being,  to  whom  time  and  temporal  develop- 
ment have  no  meaning,  can  hold  no  moral  relation  to  our 
human  life;  such  a  being  cannot  be  conceived  as  the  up- 
holder of  moral  ideals,  the  Power  that  makes  for  righteous- 
ness; for  such  a  Power  must  work  in  time,  and  achieve  his 
purposes  through  a  time  process. 


114  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

Would  not  the  conclusion  seem  to  be,  that  if  space  and 
time  are  held  to  be  forms  of  our  human  minds,  the  cosmos, 
save  the  mere  data  of  sensation-matter,  is  wholly  of  our 
making,  and  morality  and  religion  are  also  our  human 
creations;  we  Hve,  move,  and  have  our  being  in  a  humanistic 
universe. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  to  the  other  doctrine  which  makes 
space  and  time  objective.  This  objective  being  is  either 
(1)  one  of  quality,  or  (2)  relation,  or  (3)  substance. 

The  quality  meaning  of  space  and  time  is  quite  in  accord- 
ance with  our  spontaneous  belief,  our  natural  way  of  think- 
ing and  speaking;  we  speak  of  the  length  of  a  body,  the  dura- 
tion of  an  object  or  an  event,  as  we  speak  of  the  color  of  an 
object,  the  sharpness  of  a  pain;  extensity  seems  to  be  as 
truly  a  quality  of  a  perceived  object  as  its  hardness;  a  sensa- 
tion has  extensity,  as  really  as  it  has  intensity.  Psychologic- 
ally interpreted,  the  words  sound,  square,  large,  here,  there, 
etc.,  connote  as  truly  properties  of  objects  as  hard,  resisting, 
hot,  sweet,  etc.  Qualities  are  relative,  never  absolute. 
They  are  relative  to  our  experience,  to  some  behavior  of 
ours,  some  purpose  in  dealing  with  objects;  qualities  do  not 
inhere  in  things  apart  from  some  actual  or  supposed  ex- 
periential dealing  with  things;  taken  in  this  way,  there 
appears  be  no  reason  for  making  a  distinction  between 
space  and  time,  when  predicated  of  things,  and  the  other 
adjectival  predicates. 

There  is,  however,  one  feature  of  space  which  is  thought 
to  be  incompatible  with  this  view;  it  is  the  intimate  connec- 
tion which  exists  between  space  and  all  the  qualities  of 
perceived  objects.  Each  quahty  seems  to  have  a  spatial 
character,  as  a  part  of  its  own  quale,  or  to  involve  a  spatial 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  115 

reference:  thus  color  is  always  an  extent,  hardness  is  an 
extensive  feeling,  even  the  secondary  qualities,  smell  and 
taste,  carry  a  reference  to  space;  they  are  locaHzed;  and 
feeling  of  extension  is  part  of  their  content.  If  space  is  a 
quality  of  perceived  objects,  it  is  not  only  universal  but 
sustains  a  peculiar  relation  to  the  other  qualities. 

On  more  careful  examination  it  must  be  admitted  I  think 
that  space  is  unlike  the  other  qualities  in  virtue  of  this 
peculiar  relation  it  sustains  to  them;  it  does  not  merely  co- 
exist with  them,  but  it  seems  to  be  a  part  of  their  essence  as 
qualities  or  to  be  inseparable  from  them.  We  must,  I 
think,  go  farther  and  say  space  does  not  appear  to  be  a 
quality  which  coexists  with  other  qualities,  but  a  feature, 
a  part  of,  every  quality  we  attribute  to  things  in  our  sense 
experience.  One  circumstance  would  seem  to  corroborate 
this  view,  namely,  space  perception  is  not  dependent  upon 
the  excitation  of  special  nerve-organs  as  is  the  case  with  the 
perceptions  of  touch,  color,  sound,  taste,  smell,  etc,;  this 
perception  arises  in  connection  with  each  of  the  other 
special  perceptions,  as  we  have  seen;  but  the  perception 
appears  to  depend  upon  a  certain  order  or  arrangement  of 
the  sense-impressions;  the  sense-impressions  which  admit 
most  readily  of  this  arrangement,  simultaneous  and  succes- 
sive, are  those  of  touch,  sight  and  motion.  It  is  known  that 
these  sense-experiences  are  the  most  important  in  the  gene- 
sis and  development  of  our  space  knowledge.  These  facts 
regarding  space  perception  suggest  that  the  quality  con- 
ception of  space  does  not  offer  a  satisfactory  solution  of  our 
problem. 

The  view  that  space  and  time  are  entities,  or  rather  sub- 
stance  realities,   is   untenable;   it   owes   its   plausibihty  to 


116  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

a  confusion  into  which  unphilosophical  thinking  readily 
falls;  the  confusion  of  meaning  and  being  or  existence. 
Space  and  time  lack  the  two  fundamental  requirements  of 
substance-reality,  activity,  and  the  ability  to  enter  into 
relations  to  other  being  through  activity. 

The  definition  of  space  and  time  which  makes  them 
relations  is  not  more  successful  than  the  substance  concep- 
tion; for  as  soon  as  we  try  to  make  explicit  what  we  mean 
by  the  relation  itself,  we  find  that  we  must  involve  space 
itself,  either  in  the  relation  or  in  the  terms  between  which 
the  relation  holds.  Thus,  if  I  say  A  is  at  the  right  of  B,  I 
may  say  that  the  relation  between  A  and  B  is  a  relation  of 
space;  but  obviously  that  does  not  tell  me  what  this  relation 
of  space  means,  or  what  space  is  as  a  relation.  If  I  say, 
I  mean  by  space  such  a  relation  as  there  is  between  A  and 
B  when  A  is  at  the  right  of  B  I  have  simply  defined  space 
in  terms  of  itself.  It  is  not  possible  to  define  the  relation 
we  mean  by  space,  so  as  to  distinguish  it  from  other  rela- 
tions, without  employing  either  the  term  space  or  what  con- 
notes space.  The  attempt  to  find  the  meaning,  the  esse 
of  space  in  a  relation  leads  round  to  the  starting  point, 
we  move  in  a  circle,  the  attempted  definition  is  tautologic. 

The  quality  conception  of  space  and  time  would  seem  to 
be  the  only  tenable  one,  if  we  are  to  hold  that  space  and 
time  are  objective.  But  may  it  not  be  that  the  subjective 
meaning  after  all  is  the  only  one  in  which  we  can  rest  ?  If 
we  abstract  from  mind  or  mental  experience  in  some  form, 
it  seems  impossible  to  say  what  space  and  time  are.  Form, 
order,  synthesis  in  a  conscious  experience,  seem  to  be  the 
essential  of  these  realities.  We  can  avoid  the  difficulties 
we  encountered  when  we  made  space  and  time  the  forms 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  117 

of  our  human  experience.  Why  not  make  them  the  form 
of  every  perceptual  experience,  and  of  every  experience  in 
which  there  is  succession,  a  process  wherein  something 
comes  to  be  or  undergoes  change  or  passes  away?  It 
would  not  be  necessary  to  conceive  of  beings  which  exist 
out  of  relation  to  space  and  time,  and  to  divide  the  world 
into  a  space  and  time  world  and  a  non-spatial,  non-temporal 
sphere  of  quality.  An  Absolute  Being,  did  he  exist,  would 
as  truly  exist  in  space,  in  time,  as  we  do;  but  he  would  not 
be  Hmited  in  his  knowledge  and  in  his  power  of  action  to 
time  and  space  conditions  in  the  manner  of  our  finite  minds. 
He  would  know  all  that  is  temporal,  know  it  in  its  temporal 
character;  but  he  would  comprehend  all  moments  of  time 
in  one  consciousness.  In  this  Infinite  Mind,  the  infinite 
series  of  time  moments  would  be  summed,  would  exist 
as  completed.  And  so  with  space,  it  would  set  no  Hmita- 
tions  to  the  complete  knowledge  and  the  absolute  power 
of  action  which  this  Being  would  possess.  Thus  would 
the  consciousness  of  this  Being  be  both  temporal  and 
eternal;  temporal,  for  the  passing  moments,  change,  growth, 
etc.,  would  be  his  experience;  eternal,  not  because  unrelated 
to  time,  but  because  related  to  all  of  time,  to  every  passing 
moment,  to  all  possible  time-moments. 

II.  UNIFORMITY  OF  NATURE  AND  CAUSATION 

We  take  up  next  the  problem  presented  by  the  order, 
uniformity  and  interconnection  wliich  pervades  the  physical 
universe. 

By  uniformity  in  nature,  is  meant  the  fact  that  nature 
maintains  constancy  and  consistency  in  her  behavior  in  such 
wise,  that  under  the  same  conditions,  the  same  phenomena 


118  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

always  occur.  Finding  that  A  occurs  to-day  in  a  certain 
setting  or  context,  we  shall  expect  A  to  recur  to-morrow 
and  at  any  future  time,  provided  these  circumstances 
remain  or  recur.  But  this  observed  fact  about  nature  is 
not  an  isolated  feature;  it  points  to  a  deeper  lying  feature^ 
a  structural  principle  of  the  world;  Nature  is  orderly  and 
uniform,  we  say,  because  causal  connection  is  a  universal 
law  of  the  cosmos.  But  what  is  causation  ?  What  is  causal 
connection  ? 

Of  causal  connection  there  are  two  conceptions,  (1) 
The  empirical,  or  phenomenalistic  conception,  and  (2) 
the  metaphysical  conception.  According  to  the  first  con- 
ception, causation  means  simply  an  invariable  order  of 
succession  in  time,  the  antecedent  event  or  phenomenon 
being  distinguished  as  cause,  the  consequent  event  as  the 
effect.  Two  things,  A  and  B,  are  cause  and  effect  if, 
whenever  A  occurs  B  occurs,  and  whenever  A  does  not 
occur  B  does  not  occur;  to  estabhsh  the  fact  of  causal  con- 
nection, it  is  only  necessary  to  ascertain  and  prove  the  inva- 
riable occurrence  of  B  upon  the  occurrence  of  A,  and  its 
non-occurence  in  the  absence  of  A.  In  this  view  of  causa- 
tion both  cause  and  effect  are  observable  facts;  the  causal 
connection  itself  is  Hkewise  a  fact  in  the  observable  order; 
the  only  circumstance  which  distinguishes  a  causal  connec- 
tion from  a  mere  sequence  in  time  is  the  invariabihty  of 
the  sequence  in  the  case  of  a  causal  connection. 

The  second  doctrine  of  causation  maintains  that,  over 
and  above  this  observable  time  connection  between  two 
.phenomena,  there  is  a  determining  principle  which  en- 
forces this  time  sequence,  and  is  the  reason  why  just  this 
connection  exists,  and  why  it  is  an  invariable  one.     If  A 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  119 

is  the  cause  of  B,  it  is  so  not  merely  in  virtue  of  its  being  the 
invariable  time  antecedent  of  B.  but  in  virtue  of  some 
deeper  l}nng  fact,  some  actual  determination  which  it  exer- 
cises upon  B.  In  a  truly  causal  connection,  two  things  are 
contained;  (1)  invariable  succession  in  time;  this  is  the 
observable  part  of  the  process,  and  (2)  an  unobserved  but 
necessarily  presupposed  fact,  causal  determination  is 
a  dynamic  principle  or  agency.  The  observed,  invariable 
order  of  events  is  the  sign  of  the  presence  of  the  efficient 
factor  in  the  total  fact;  it  is  the  unobserved  cause,  which 
explains  the  observed  connection  between  the  two  observable 
phenomena. 

These  two  ways  of  conceiving  causal  connection  satisfy 
two  distinct  interests,  the  interest  of  science,  and  the  interest 
of  philosophical  explanation.  Science  has  no  occasion  to 
postulate  more  than  an  invariable  order  of  occurrence; 
any  two  or  more  phenomena,  between  which  such  a  con- 
nection exists,  are  respectively  cause  and  effect.  The  sole 
problem  for  science  in  this  matter  is  to  ascertain  what 
phenomena  stand  in  this  time  order  of  occurrence;  science 
postulates  this  invariable  order  of  events  as  an  ultimate 
fact  of  the  cosmos;  she  confesses  she  has  no  other  justifica- 
tion of  this  postulate  than  uniform,  uncontradicted  experi- 
ence. The  postulate  has  worked,  hitherto,  with  unbroken 
success;  and  the  presumption  of  its  truth  is  as  good  as  a 
certainty. 

For  our  practical  interests  and  aims  also,  this  meaning 
of  causation  is  sufficient;  for  the  successful  guidance  of 
action  it  is  only  necessary  that  we  should  know  on  the  basis 
of  present  conditions  what  to  expect,  what  to  be  prepared 
for;  the  nature  of  the  bond  which  Knks  the  facts  or  parst 


120  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

of  our  experience  is  not  a  practical  question.  It  is  only 
when  we  become  reflective,  and  seek  to  penetrate  deeper 
than  the  observable  order  of  events,  that  we  become  dis- 
satisfied with  this  conception  of  causation;  the  plain  man 
as  well  as  the  philosophical  thinker  finds  this  conception 
unsatisfactory.  In  his  mind  there  is  a  demand  for  a  more 
intimate,  a  more  effective  connection  between  the  thing 
or  fact  we  call  a  cause,  and  that  which  we  call  its  effect; 
both  the  fact  and  the  nature  of  this  causal  connection  he 
thinks  he  finds  in  his  own  experience  of  action;  he  experi- 
ences agency  in  the  execution  of  movements,  the  carrying 
out  of  his  plans,  the  control  and  direction  of  what  he  takes 
to  be  forces  or  agents  in  the  world  about  him.  Causation, 
as  thus  known  in  his  own  experience,  is  something  dynamic, 
efficient,  a  real  doing  of  something  upon  something.  The 
plain  man  carries  over  to  nature  what  he  finds  in  himself, 
and  conceives  the  processes  there  after  the  analogy  of  his 
own  activities.  There  is  something  more  in  the  cosmos 
than  mere  events,  a  succession  of  phenomena,  moving 
pictures;  there  are  dynamic  transactions,  active  beings, 
forces,  and  energies.  Bodies  not  only  move,  and  change, 
they  are  made  to  move,  made  to  change  by  the  action  upon 
them  of  other  bodies  or  by  energies  which  develop  within 
themselves.  In  short,  the  actual  world  of  concrete  experi- 
ence is  a  world  of  dynamic  transactions,  of  effective  activi- 
ties, of  productive  agencies.  Science  can  for  her  special, 
and  consequently  partial  aims,  abstract  from  this  dynamic, 
forceful  character  of  the  cosmos;  but  in  so  doing  she  con- 
fesses that  the  knowledge  she  gives  is  only  in  part;  her 
abstract  treatment  of  the  world  must  not  be  taken  for  a 
description  of  the  world  of  our  concrete  experience.     Now 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  121 

must  not  the  philosopher  agree  with  the  plain  man,  so  far 
as  he  protests  against  the  scientific  meaning  of  causal- 
connection,  as  a  wholly  correct  and  complete  account  of 
the  real  world  ?  The  real  processes  which  go  on  in  nature, 
the  actual  connection  by  which  the  individual  beings  of 
the  world  are  linked,  are  not  expressed  in  the  scientific 
conception  of  causation. 

Causal  connection  as  science  conceives  it  is  at  best  a 
fragmentary  truth;  it  becomes  a  serious  error  if  taken  for 
more  than  such  a  part-truth.  Nor  is  the  scientific  concep- 
tion without  difficulty  of  its  own;  and  science  falls  into 
embarrassment  in  strictly  adhering  to  her  own  meaning  of 
causation.  According  to  this  doctrine,  that  which  in  any 
phenomenon  or  fact  which  makes  it  causal  in  relation  to 
another  phenomenon  is  its  antecedence  in  time;  a  time 
priority,  be  it  never  so  little,  must  distinguish  the  cause 
from  the  effect;  this  time-priority  is  the  only  distinction 
there  is  between  the  two.  The  two  things  which  are  cause 
and  effect  can  be  identical  in  every  discernible  element 
save  the  circumstance,  that  one  occupies  the  earlier  position 
in  the  time  order;  or  the  two  things  may  be  unlike  in  every 
feature;  since  this  order  of  occurrence  is  all  that  constitutes 
the  causal  relation  between  them.  But  it  is  at  this  point 
that  the  difficulty  is  encountered.  Is  there  a  time-interval 
between  a  cause  and  its  effect  ?  Or,  more  exactly  expressed, 
is  the  absolute  beginning  of  an  effect  separated  by  a  time- 
interval  from  the  absolute  termination  of  the  cause  ?  Take 
the  case  of  two  balls,  A  and  B;  let  the  ball  A  in  its  motion 
come  in  contact  with  the  ball  B  at  rest.  The  result  of 
course  is  that  B  begins  to  move;  this  motion  of  A  is  the 
cause  of  the  motion  of  B.     Now  was  there  a  time  interval 


122  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

between  the  beginning  of  the  effect,  the  motion  of  B,  and 
that  in  A's  motion  ?  Is  not  the  real  transaction  an  absolute 
continuity  of  process  just  as  time  itself  is  an  absolutely 
continuous  process?  If  it  be  admitted  that  cause  and 
effect  are  strictly  contemporaneous,  then  obviously  priority 
in  time  is  not  the  distinctive  mark  of  a  causal  ^phenomenon. 

The  only  escape  from  this  difficulty  is  to  maintain  that 
there  is  but  one  process  in  which  there  are  two  stages  or 
phases  of  which  one  may  be  called  the  effect,  and  the 
remaining  anterior  part  the  cause.  But  would  it  be  pos- 
sible to  interpret  causal  connection  in  this  way,  in  those 
instances  in  which  the  two  terms  are  heterogeneous  ?  We 
have  apparently  in  such  cases  not  two  phases  of  one  process, 
but  two  processes  which  are  quite  different  in  character. 
The  answer  to  this  question  is  that  the  ideal  of  scientific 
explanation  is  the  reduction  of  phenomena  to  their  simplest 
elements  and  elementary  phenomena  to  motions;  and 
these  are  so  far  homogeneous  as  to  admit  of  description 
and  measurement  by  the  same  formulae.  Now  wherever 
we  succeed  in  finding  a  causal  connection,  it  is  possible  to 
analyze  the  two  phenomena  between  which  this  relation 
subsists  into  processes  of  actual  or  potential  motion,  which 
we  can  assume  to  be  continuous;  and  the  same  fundamental 
character,  and  then  the  terms  cause  and  effect,  will  mark 
the  two  distinguishable  phases  or  stages  in  this  process. 

It  would  seem  to  be  made  out  that  for  science,  causal 
connection  need  be  only  an  empirical  fact;  and  the  concep- 
tion of  cause  need  have  no  metaphysical  implication  what- 
ever. Of  course,  the  scientific  thinker  does  not  deny  that 
there  is  a  deeper  reality  than  phenomenal  causation;  but 
what  may  be  the  nature  of  this  underlying  reality  he  main- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  128 

tains  IS  not  a  problem  for  science;  science  has  explained  a 
phenomenon  when  she  has  described  in  general  terms  the 
manner  in  which  that  phenomenon  has  occurred;  and  the 
term  cause,  causation,  is  one  of  these  descriptive  terms. 

But  here  as  elsewhere,  the  philosophical  thinker  finds 
his  problem  where  science  is  content  with  assumption  or 
postulates.  The  philosopher  so  far  agrees  with  the  plain 
man  in  maintaining  that  the  essence  of  causation  lies  back 
of  that  which  science  calls  causation.  The  metaphysical 
thinker  insists  that  such  a  fact  as  invariable  succession  in 
time,  an  invariable  antecedent  for  a  given  event,  in  itself 
calls  for  explanation;  the  postulate  that  this  relation  of 
antecedence  and  consequence  is  unconditional  and  invari- 
able needs  justification;  the  mere  fact  that  it  has  been 
observed  hitherto  with  no  exception  is  itself  not  a  rational 
ground  of  assurance;  uniform  experience  up-to-date  is  cor- 
roborative, only  because  it  strengthens  the  belief  in  active 
and  efficient  nature  in  things  not  seen  which  determines 
this  visible  order  in  time,  and  is  the  only  reason  that  there 
is  such  a  fact  as  an  invariable  antecedent  and  consequent. 

Our  time-experience  is  that  of  an  irreversible  succession. 
Now,  this  fact  that  we  cannot  in  experience  reverse  the  time 
order  is  expHcable  only  if  we  suppose  the  content  of  experi- 
ence, the  fining  of  time,  is  subject  to  an  agency  which 
determines  this  order,  and  makes  it  irreversible.  Of 
course,  the  question,  what  is  the  source,  what  is  the  nature 
of  this  determining  influence,  carries  us  back  to  the  problem 
of  ultimate  being;  it  is  a  part  of  the  larger  question,  what 
is  the  ultimate  being  of  the  world.?  Causal  connection  is 
a  special  feature  of  the  cosmos,  a  more  comprehensive 
conception  of  the  cosmos  which  includes  this  feature  of  it. 


124  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

is  that  all  parts,  the  ultimate  structural  elements  of  the 
cosmos,  exist  in  reciprocal  dependence;  they  form  a  system- 
atic whole,  within  which  each  element  or  individual  has 
its  place  and  function  determined  by  its  connection  with 
the  whole;  so  that  no  change  can  take  place  in  any  one 
element,  without  involving  a  corresponding  change  in 
every  one  of  the  others.  It  results  from  this  structure  of 
the  world,  that  the  real  cause  of  any  given  event  is  the  sum 
total  of  conditions  existing  at  the  time;  the  universe  is 
implicated  in  every  one  of  its  parts,  and  changes  in  every 
individual  change;  it  is  owing  to  the  time-form  of  our 
experience  that  causation  assumes  the  character  of  anteced- 
ent and  consequent;  we  live  in  time;  our  practical  interests, 
our  purposes,  our  expectations,  etc.,  have  to  do  mainly 
with  the  succession  of  events,  the  flow  of  experience;  both 
for  our  theoretic  and  our  practical  purposes  we  need  to 
include  in  the  cause  of  a  given  phenomenon  only  those  con- 
ditions, near  or  remote,  which  have  a  sensible  effect  upon 
the  phenomenon,  and  which  we  need  to  take  account  of, 
if  we  would  predict  the  occurrence  of  this  phenomenon, 
or  be  prepared  for  the  recurrence  of  a  like  phenomenon. 
This  larger  conception  of  causal  connection  makes  it 
synonymous  with  the  principle  of  sufficient-reason;  and 
sufficient  reason  includes  ends,  purposes,  as  well  as  anteced- 
ent conditions,  or  what  are  called  efficient  causes.  And 
this  larger  view  makes  it  clear,  that  causal  explanation,  as 
we  ordinarily  conceive  it,  is  a  partial  explanation;  it  is 
giving  only  a  part  of  the  sufficient  reason  for  the  fact  that 
is  under  investigation.  As  we  have  seen,  for  the  aims  of 
science,  and  for  our  practical  needs,  this  partial  explanation 
is  sufficient;  but  for  the  philosopher  who  seeks  the  whole 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  125 

of  the  sufficient  reason,  the  true  cause  of  the  simplest 
happening  in  the  world,  is  the  nature  of  the  whole. 

So  much  for  the  meaning  of  causation.  We  pass  now 
to  the  question,  whence  our  knowledge  of  cause  and  effect  ? 

Regarding  our  knowledge  of  uniformity  of  nature  and 
causal  connection  there  are  three  doctrines,  (1)  the  doctrine 
of  rationaUsm,  (2)  The  doctrine  of  pure  empiricism,  (3) 
the  doctrine  that  uniformity  of  nature  and  causal  connec- 
tion are  postulates. 

The  first  of  these  doctrines  holds,  that  we  have  intuitive 
and  consequently  certain  knowledge  that  nature  is  uniform 
and  all  events  causally  connected.  This  knowledge  is 
derived  from  reason,  is  a  priori,  and  the  propositions  in 
question  are  self-evident;  our  reason  discerns  and  affirms 
this  rational  structure  of  the  world. 

The  empiricist  maintains  that  these  beliefs  are  wholly 
empirical  in  origin,  and  their  vahdity  rests  wholly  upon 
experience.  Uniformity  of  nature  and  causal  connection 
are  empirical  facts;  they  are  two  characteristics  of  the  world 
of  our  experience;  this  routine  manner  in  which  events  occur, 
being  constant  within  the  limits  of  experience  up  to  date, 
we  expect  will  hold  good  of  experience  not  yet  had;  this 
belief  in  the  universality  of  what  experience  has  shown, 
is  a  simple  induction,  a  generalization  from  experience. 
This  disposition  to  generahze  from  experience  to  expect 
that  the  future  will  be  hke  the  past,  is  Hke  other  native 
propensities,  an  ultimate  fact  of  our  mental  natures,  an 
instance  of  the  law  of  habit,  which  seems  coextensive  with 
all  organic  life. 

The  third  doctrine  agrees  with  rationalism  in  its  rejection 
of  the  empiricist's   position;   and   with  empiricism,   in   its 


126  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

denial  of  intuitive  and  a  priori  knowledge  of  causal  connec- 
tion. The  essence  of  postulation  is  not  to  claim  knowledge, 
but  to  ask  that  something  be  taken  as  true  for  the  purpose 
of  such  experience  and  action  as  will  justify  this  postulation. 
The  source  of  these  two  postulates  is  deeper  than  mere 
habit  resulting  from  a  passive  experience;  that  source  is 
rather  a  rational  nature,  which  is  both  theoretic  and  prac- 
tical; the  need  to  know,  the  need  to  act.  The  deeper  root 
of  these  postulates  is  in  our  ethical  nature.  It  is  the  de- 
mand that  nature  will  not  put  us  to  intellectual  confusion 
in  our  efforts  to  know,  or  frustrate  our  endeavor  in  the 
maintenance  of  life. 

Against  the  rationalist's  doctrine,  stands  the  fact,  that 
men  who  have  not  developed  intelHgence  on  the  basis  of 
experience  do  not  take  nature  to  be  uniform,  nor  recognize 
a  causal  connection  in  phenomena.  Only  gradually,  and 
after  repeated  experiments  in  deahng  with  nature,  does 
the  idea  arise,  that  there  is  uniformity  and  causal  connec- 
tion in  nature;  these  are  not  discovered  until  they  are 
looked  for.  The  way  in  which  this  connection  is  produced 
in  the  mind,  clearly  shows  that  it  is  no  intuition  or  product 
of  a  priori  function.  The  psychological-historical  genesis 
of  these  beliefs  disproves  the  rationalistic  theory  of  their 
origin. 

There  is  doubtless  a  considerable  measure  of  truth  in 
the  purely  empirical  theory;  this  routine  character  of  the 
cosmos,  this  determinate  order  in  time  of  all  its  events, 
are  facts  of  experience;  our  behef  is  validated  only  by 
experience;  it  would  be  quite  destroyed  by  contradictory 
experience;  it  holds  firm  so  long  as  experience  runs  without 
exception    in   this    direction.     But,    unless   the   conception 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  127 

of  experience  is  broadened,  so  as  to  include  certain  active 
elements,  certain  selective  activities  and  will  attitudes, 
tentative  ways  of  reacting  to  the  merely  given  matters 
of  experience,  the  empirical  theory  hardly  explains  these 
conceptions  of  nature.  This  way  of  conceiving,  and 
actively  taking  the  world,  is  the  fruit  of  a  dealing  with 
the  data  of  direct  experience,  which  resuts  in  no  incon- 
siderable modification  of  the  brute  factls  themselves:  a 
transformation  of  the  world  which  our  direct  experience 
presents.  Nature  presents  to  simple  passive  experience 
quite  as  often  a  chaos,  as  anything  coherent  and  orderly; 
order  and  connectedness  are  found,  only  as  by  selective 
attention,  and  in  pursuit  of  certain  ends,  we  constructively 
reach  them.  Order  and  causal  connection  are  not  im- 
pressed upon  our  minds  by  a  passive  experience  of  them; 
they  are  rather  ways  of  conceiving  nature  which,  for  our 
human  needs  and  purposes,  we  are  impelled  to  adopt;  and 
which  we  increasingly  verify  by  experience;  these  beliefs 
are  not  mere  results  of  experiences  we  have  of  nature;  they 
are  rather  the  fruits  of  our  experiments  with  nature;  and 
into  this  experimentation  (which  is  both  theoretic  and 
practical)  there  enter  factors  of  which  the  simple  empirical 
theory  takes  no  account.  The  disposition  to  look  for  order 
and  connection  in  the  world,  where  we  do  not  observe  it, 
to  persist  in  the  conviction  that  it  exists,  despite  contra 
appearances,  to  extend  this  order  and  connection  through- 
out the  range  of  possible  experience,  has  its  root  in  a  deeper 
function  of  our  nature  than  empiricism  assumes.  It  is 
this  deficiency  which  the  postulation-theory  supplies. 
According  to  this  theory,  our  world  comes  to  present 
uniformity  of  behavior  and   causal    connection  largely  in 


128  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

consequence  of  the  methods  we  are  forced  to  adopt  in 
handling  the  materials  which  experience  yields.  Three 
facts  are  especially  prominent  in  shaping  this  conception 
of  nature: 

1.  Social  communication,  which  makes  possible  common 
understanding,  common  work,  cooperation  for  common 
ends,  and  the  satisfaction  of  social  needs.  Social  commu- 
nication leads  us  to  select,  to  single  out  these  features  of 
regularity  and  coherence,  which  experience  presents,  to  con- 
ceptualize and  make  them  universal. 

2.  Our  industrial  arts  lead  to  the  same  way  of  treating 
nature;  for  our  success  in  these  arts,  we  need  stabiHty,  uni- 
formity and  connectedness  in  our  world;  we  tentatively  as- 
sume they  are  there;  we  work  on  this  postulate,  and  gradu- 
ally verify  it  by  our  experience  in  its  working. 

3.  Our  scientific  knowledge,  born  in  part  out  of  practical 
needs,  always  controlled  by  practical  interests,  takes  this 
active  and  constructive  attitude  toward  the  world  it  is  seek- 
ing to  explain.  It  postulates  at  the  very  outset  that  structure 
of  the  world  which  it  is  necessary  the  world  shall  possess 
if  science  is  to  succeed  in  her  task.  The  whole  work  of 
science  is  thus  a  tentative  thinking  of  reahty,  to  see  what 
will  come  of  our  endeavor.  This  postulatory  attitude  to 
Nature,  this  venture  of  faith,  and  wilHngness  to  work  upon 
the  postulate,  is  the  spirit  of  science.  Nature's  uniformity 
and  causal  connection  are  two  fundamental  postulates  on 
which  science  is  willing  to  work;  and  she  has  worked  so 
successfully  upon  them  that  they  have  assumed  the  character 
of  axioms;  they  are  not  self-evident  truths,  intuitively 
known  as  rationalism  teaches,  but  postulates,  springing 
from  deep  rational  necessities,  both  theoretic  and  practical; 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  129 

and,  uncontradicted  by  ages  of  experience,  they  have  the 
working  value  of  axiomatic  certainties. 

III.  MECHANICAL  AND  TELEOLOGICAL  CONCEPTIONS  OF 

THE  WORLD 

The  third  special  problem  in  cosmology  is  presented  by 
the  facts  of  unity,  harmony,  and  various  adaptations,  those 
which  exist  between  inorganic  and  living  beings  and,  par- 
ticularly, the  adaptations  of  living  beings  to  their  environ- 
ment.    The  central  problem  is  that  of  organic  nature. 

In  explaining  the  facts  of  organic  nature  two  principles 
have  been  followed,  two  conceptions  have  been  held, 
mechanism  and  teleology.  Our  problem  relates  to  the 
meaning  and  the  validity  of  these  conceptions. 

I  will  first  define  the  two  principles  of  explanation. 

1.  The  principle  of  mechanic-explanation:  To  explain 
mechanically  is  to  find  the  explanation  of  any  given  event 
or  phenomenon  in  some  antecedent  condition  or  condi- 
tions, or  in  agencies  which  operate  with  the  same  undeviat- 
ing  regularity  w^hich  we  observe  in  the  action  of  machines 
which  our  art  constructs.  The  agencies  which  produce 
the  result  under  investigation  do  so  without  prevision  of 
this  result,  and  in  accordance  with  a  principle  of  determina- 
tion which  makes  just  this  event  or  phenomenon  certain, 
and  excludes  the  possibility  of  a  different  result  in  the 
existing  conditions. 

2.  The  principle  of  teleological  explanation.  A  fact 
or  phenomenon  is  teleologically  explained,  when  it  is  not 
only  seen  to  be  a  result,  an  effect  or  terminus  of  a  process 
of  change,  but  is  viewed  as  an  end,  in  relation  to  which 
these  antecedent  conditions  and  changes  have  their  meaning. 


130  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

In  the  teleological  conception  of  an  event,  or  being,  this 
being  or  event  is  conceived  to  control  and  direct  the  agencies 
or  series  of  changes  which  issue  in  this  result. 

These  two  conceptions,  mechanism,  teleology,  will  be 
more  sharply  defined,  if  we  indicate  their  points  of  difference. 

1.  In  the  mechanical  conception  of  an  event  or  being 
the  antecedent  process  or  events  are  the  sole  explainers  of 
the  given  fact.  In  the  teleological  conception,  these  anteced- 
ent conditions  are  not  the  sole  explainers  of  the  given  fact; 
this  fact  is  more  than  a  result,  it  is  also  an  end,  and  so 
something  which  is  more  than  an  antecedent  is  necessary 
to  explain  it. 

2.  In  the  mechanical  explanation,  the  agencies  which 
effect  a  given  result  are  in  no  manner  influenced  by  the 
result  in  which  they  terminate;  this  resultant  is  not  a  goal 
or  end.  It  is  indispensable  to  the  teleological  explanation, 
to  interpret  this  resultant  as  at  the  same  time  a  goal,  an 
endf  and  consequently  to  hold  that  this  end  prior  to  its 
actualization  influences  whatever  processes  issue  in  it  as  a 
result.  An  end-seeking,  if  not  end-directed  activity,  or 
process,  is  fundamental  to  a  teleological  explanation.  On 
the  contrary,  so  far  as  an  explanation  is  mechanical,  it 
must  exclude  this  kind  of  agency. 

We  have  now  to  discuss  the  validity  of  these  two  princi- 
ples of  explanation.  In  dealing  with  nature  we  seem  to  be 
justified  in  the  use  of  both  principles,  notwithstanding  the 
opposition  between  them. 

We  find  in  nature  that  processes  go  on  with  a  machine- 
like regularity;  we  find  that  any  particular  phenomenon 
which  we  may  single  out  has  certain  antecedent  conditions 
on  which  it  invariably  follows;  these  being  given,  we  feel 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  131 

certain  that  this  consequence  and  no  other  could  follow; 
we  are  never  disappointed  in  this  expectation  when  we 
have  become  certain  of  the  antecedent  conditions;  given 
these  and  the  event  in  question  seems  to  follow  by  the  same 
kind  of  necessity  as  that  which  we  recognize  in  the  working  of 
a  machine;  in  which,  when  a  movement  of  a  definite  kind 
takes  place  in  one  part  of  the  mechanism,  a  definite  move- 
ment necessarily  results  in  some  other  part  of  the  mechan- 
ism, and  just  that  particular  motion  and  no  other  is  possible 
at  that  time.  Now  inorganic  nature  at  least  presents 
this  mechanical  aspect;  this  feature  of  it  is  so  fixed  and  so 
persistent  that  there  is  forced  upon  our  minds  the  conviction 
that  every  phenomenon,  every  thing  which  comes  to  be,  is 
the  inevitable  outcome  of  its  antecedent  conditions.  If, 
now,  we  extend  our  survey  over  the  organic  kingdom,  in 
the  lowest  forms  at  least  we  can  discover  no  departure  from 
this  machine-like  behavior;  the  seemingly  spontaneous 
movements  of  the  microorganisms  are  determined  by 
mechanically  acting  stimuli,  and  the  answering  reaction 
js  mechanical  to  this  extent  at  least,  that  the  action  per- 
formed, the  responses,  movements,  are  in  every  instance 
the  only  ones  that  are  possible  in  the  given  circumstance. 
The  processes  which  go  on  in  the  organism  are,  in  the  ulti- 
mate analysis,  physico-chemical  in  character,  and  do  not 
differ,  save  in  complexity,  from  those  which  go  on  in  inor- 
ganic nature;  and  organic  behavior  appears  to  be  as  much 
the  mechanical  resultant  of  these  processes,  as  the  behavior 
of  inorganic  bodies  is  the  resultant  of  definite  physical 
forces. 

If  we  ascend  to  the  higher  level  of  organisms  with  a 
nervous  system,  we  do  not  find  the  mechanical  form  of 


132  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

action  superseded  by  action  of  a  different  type;  the  processes 
which  go  on  in  the  most  complex  nervous  system  are  reduci- 
ble to  molecular  movements,  as  mechanical  in  character 
as  are  the  motions  of  bodies  in  the  external  world.  Reflex 
actions  are  executed  with  the  same  undeviating  regularity, 
the  same  inevitableness  and  exclusion  of  alternative  actions, 
which  characterize  the  motions  we  see  take  place  in  the 
inorganic  world;  if  we  cannot  predict  the  actions  of  living 
beings  as  we  do  the  actions  which  occur  in  non-living 
beings,  it  is  solely  for  the  reason  that  they  are  determined 
by  infinitely  more  complex  conditions,  not  because  they 
are  determined  in  a  different  manner;  every  action  or 
movement  of  ar^  organism  is  the  resultant  of  its  internal 
conditions,  as  they  are  themselves  determined  by  environ- 
mental conditions,  or  have  been  so  determined;  both  sets 
of  processes,  those  within  the  organism  and  those  without, 
appear  to  be  mechanical;  and  the  behavior  of  the  organism, 
its  reactive  movements,  etc.,  are,  to  all  appearance,  of  the 
same  type,  namely,  mechanical;  they  are  determined  by 
antecedent  conditions,  and  not  by  ends  or  purposes. 

But  how  is  it  when  we  come  to  the  level  of  distinctly 
conscious  behavior,  and  especially  our  human  actions  ? 
Are  we  not  confronted  by  a  condition  of  things  which  makes 
the  mechanical  method  of  explanation  totally  inadequate, 
if  not  wholly  irrelevant  ?  Are  not  such  undeniable  things 
as  ideas,  purposes,  intentions,  the  explainers  of  the  actions 
which  follow  them,  in  a  very  different  sense  from  that  in 
which  the  motion  of  the  body  A  explains  the  motion  of  the 
body  B  ?  We  cannot,  therefore,  assimilate  the  actions  of 
intelligent,  feeling,  and  purposing  beings  to  the  type  of 
mechanical  actions;  to  do  so,  is  to  overlook  their  significance. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  LS3 

and  to  leave  them  unexplained;  and  the  point  here  urged  is, 
that  our  actions  are  not  related  to  our  purposes  and  aims, 
as  are  the  motions  of  physical  bodies  to  antecedent  conditions. 
K  we  permit  ourselves  to  say,  our  ideas,  our  purposes,  cause 
our  external  actions,  we  do  so  in  a  different  meaning  of  the 
term  from  that  in  which  we  say  the  billiard  ball  A  by  its 
impact  caused  the  ball  B  to  move  in  a  certain  direction. 
Actions  are  the  expressions  of  purposes,  not  the  effect;  the 
bodily  movements,  the  words  and  deeds  of  our  human 
fellows,  are  the  symbols  of  their  thoughts,  their  emotions 
and  their  wills;  not  effects,  not  meclianical  resultants  of  their 
inner  states.  It  is  the  plan  in  the  mind  of  the  architect,  the 
ideal  of  the  artist,  which  explains  the  building,  the  painting, 
the  statue;  take  these  away,  and  that  part  of  the  result  which 
must  be  attributed  to  them,  and  you  have  only  a  shapeless 
pile  of  stone,  a  mass  of  paint  and  canvas;  eliminate  the 
non-mechanical  constituent  in  this  manuscript  that  is  being 
all  too  slowly  and  too  poorly  elaborated,  and  what  remains 
are  characters  in  ink,  on  sheets  of  white  paper.  Mechanical 
processes  doubtless  are  involved  in  the  formation,  the  dis- 
position and  in  the  spatial  arrangement  of  each  letter,  each 
word,  which  compose  this  manuscript;  but  they  do  not 
explain  this  piece  of  philosophical  discussion  that  is  going 
on  in  these  written  characters,  any  more  than  the  mechanical 
processes  which  undoubtedly  had  for  their  result  the  Parthe- 
non or  Saint  Peter's  dome  explain  these  structures.  And 
what  is  true  of  these  productions  of  human  art  is  true  of 
organic  structures  in  nature;  it  may  be  shown  that  mechan- 
ically acting  agencies  have  terminated  in  the  insect's  eye, 
the  eagle's  wing,  and  the  still  more  marvelous  eye  of  man; 
but  they  do  not  explain  the  significance,  the  function  of 


134  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

these  organs;  the  flight  of  the  eagle,  the  minute  seeing  of  the 
insect,  the  uses  of  the  human  eye,  are  something  more  than 
resultants  of  mechanically  operative  agencies  or  conditions. 
To  say  the  insect  has  this  microscopic  vision,  because  it  has 
eyes,  the  eagle  flies  because  it  has  wings,  and  man  fashions 
his  wonderful  structures  because  he  has  hands,  is  to  stop 
far  short  of  the  goal  in  our  explanation;  do  we  not  need  to 
reverse  the  terms  of  this  statement,  and  say,  the  insect 
has  multiple  eyes  in  order  to  see,  the  eagle  its  powerful 
wings  in  order  to  sustain  his  long  flight,  and  man  has  hands 
that  he  may  create  works  of  art  ?  Are  we  not  constrained 
to  view  these  adaptations  as  more  than  mechanically  attained 
results  ? 

Can  we  escape  the  conclusion  that  in  some  way  these 
ends  had  to  do  with  the  processes  through  which  they  are 
realized  ?  This  raises  the  question  of  the  validity  of  the 
teleological  principle  in  the  explanation  of  nature.  We 
have  seen  that  the  proposition,  nature  is  mechanical  in  all 
her  ways,  is  justified  by  the  facts  of  observation  and  secure 
induction  therefrom;  the  reign  of  mechanism  is  indisputable. 
Is  the  proposition,  nature  is  teleological,  at  least  in  some 
of  her  ways,  susceptible  of  proof  ?  Is  explanation  by  ends 
as  legitimate  as  explanation  by  antecedents  ?  Here  is  the 
point  at  which  the  issue  is  joined  between  the  teleological 
and  the  antiteleological  theories. 

Teleological  explanation  is  undeniably  valid  in  the  realm 
of  human  action  and  productions ;  teleology  is  at  home  in  our 
human  world;  History  is  teleological  or  meaningless;  to 
eliminate  ideas  and  purposes  from  human  productions 
were  to  destroy  the  moral,  the  historical  and  political  sciences 
altogether,  in  short  it  were  to  make  the  study  of  mankind 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  185 

a  meaningless  undertaking.  The  issue  between  mechanism 
and  teleology  centers  in  the  question,  is  organic  nature 
teleological,  or  is  mechanism  the  only  valid  principle  of 
explanation  in  the  phenomena  of  living  beings  ?  That 
organisms  are  unlike  physical  bodies,  that  impulses,  crav- 
ings, purposive  actions,  characterize  the  behavior  of  living 
beings  at  a  certain  stage  of  development,  the  upholder  of 
the  purely  mechanical  explanation  does  not  deny;  nor  does 
he  deny  that  adaptations,  the  fitness  of  organic  structures 
to  certain  functions,  say  flying,  swimming,  pursuit  and 
capture  of  prey,  are  facts;  what  the  advocate  of  the  purely 
mechanical  explanation  does  deny  is,  that  these  adapta- 
tions, the  performance  of  these  sorts  of  actions,  were  factors 
determining  or  guiding  the  processes  by  which  the  organism 
with  its  adaptive  structures  came  into  being.  Now  this 
is  just  what  the  teleologist  must  maintain;  and  the  dispute 
between  them  narrows  itself  to  this  question,  have  the 
organic  structures  which  abound  in  nature,  existed  as 
ideas,  and  in  that  ideal  mode  of  existence  controlled  and 
directed  the  agencies  or  conditions  by  which  they  have  been 
formed  ?  Or,  to  reduce  the  question  to  more  exact  terms, 
have  the  adaptations  of  the  different  species  of  plants  and 
animals  to  their  environment  been  operative  as  an  idea, 
determining  or  guiding  the  forces  by  which  adaptive  struc- 
tures and  then  consequent  functions  have  been  produced  ? 

The  teleologist  answers  this  question  in  the  aflirmative. 
He  maintains  that  the  assumption  of  an  end-seeking  agency 
is  the  only  rational  explanation  of  such  structures  as  we 
find  everywhere  in  organic  nature;  indeed,  so  he  contends, 
a  single  organism,  with  its  parts  and  special  organs,  each 
implying   the   others,    and    dependent   upon   them   for   its 


136  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

function,  is  inexplicable,  if  viewed  as  the  product  of  merely 
mechanical  forces;  organic  beings  are  inexplicable,  unless 
we  assume  they  are  the  product  of  a  labor  working  to  an 
end,  and  that  in  some  way  the  end  yet  to  be  directs  the 
labor  by  which  it  is  made  actual.  And,  continues  the 
teleologist,  whether  we  conceive  this  directing,  controlling 
agency  as  a  distinct  form,  and  extraneous  to  the  forces  it 
controls  and  directs,  or  as  imminent  in  them,  as  the  inner 
nature  of  these  forces,  which  seem  to  act  blindly  and  with 
mechanical  necessity,  is  immaterial;  we  must  recognize  a 
teleological  principle,  locate  it  where  we  will,  and  conceive 
its  nature  and  mode  of  operation  in  whatever  manner  we 
choose. 

The  teleologist  supports  his  doctrine  by  three  lines  of 
argument,  as  follows: 

1.  The  alternative  to  teleology  is  in  principle  the  old 
theory  of  a  fortuitous  coincidence  of  purely  independent 
and  blindly  acting  agents.  The  alternative  is  either 
purpose,  or  chance;  a  third  alternative  is  not  possible. 
The  problem  is,  to  explain  the  coincidence,  the  converging 
of  a  number  of  independent  agencies  upon  one  result; 
for  instance,  the  production  of  a  seeing  eye,  a  wing  that 
enable  the  bird  to  fly;  not  only  the  coincidence  of  independ- 
ent agencies  in  the  production  of  a  single  organ,  or  an 
individual  organism;  but  the  tout  ensemble  of  organisms 
and  their  relations  to  each  other  and  to  inorganic  nature. 
This  is  the  problem,  and  the  argument  is,  that  the  alterna- 
tive solutions  are  teleology,  a  purposive  agency,  or  chance. 
To  attempt  to  break  the  force  of  this  reasoning,  by  substi- 
tuting for  chance  causation,  law,  is  not  relevant;  for  the 
crux  of  the  antiteleological  argument  is,  in  the  unity  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  137 

result  produced  by  the  action  of  several,  yes  a  multiplicity 
of  separate  agents,  all  of  which  by  the  supposition  are 
acting  without  the  control  or  guidance  of  a  principle  which 
takes  account  of  the  end  that  is  attained.  Nor  is  this 
difficulty  overcome,  or  in  any  degree  lessened,  by  invoking 
the  aid  of  evolution;  for  it  is  indifferent  to  the  significance 
of  the  final  outcome,  whether  the  process  by  which  this 
result  has  been  reached  was  gradually  effected  by  successive 
increments  of  slight  changes,  a  process  extending  through 
a  vast  period  of  time,  or,  whether  the  process  be  one  of 
short  duration,  and  one  making  great  and  sudden  change. 
If  there  was  no  end-seeking  and  directive  principle  at  work 
it  remains  just  as  inexplicable  how  such  phenomena  as  or- 
ganic nature  presents  came  about  by  evolution,  as  without 
evolution.  Evolution  affords  no  escape  from  the  dilemma, 
unless  evolution  is  itself  a  teleological  process. 

And  this  leads  to  the  second  argument: 

2.  The    antiteleologist    in    his    appeal    to    evolution    is 
slain  by  his  own  weapon;  evolution  is  a  meaningless  con-    I 
ception,  or  rather  a  word  without  meaning,  if  we  eliminate    I 
from  it  the  conception  of  an  end;  evolution  is  a  teleological    \ 
process,  or  it  is  a  name  without  a  meaning;  the  purely    \ 
mechanical   evolution    involves    a   contradiction    in  terms.    \ 
Therefore,  to  explain  by  evolution,  and  at  the  same  time    ^ 
to  deny  the  validity  of  the  teleological  conception,  is  a  self- 
contradictory   procedure.     The  antiteleological   evolution- 
ist,   if   sincere   in    his    undertaking,    deceives   himself;    he 
tacitly  employs  a  conception  which  he  should  discard;  his 
seeming  success  in  dispensing  w^ith  teleology  is  due  to  his 
failure  to  recognize  the  true  nature  of  the  method  he  is 
using,  in  other  words  he  is  a  teleologist  without  knowing  it. 


138  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

3.  The   third    argument    in  support  of  the  teleological 

explanation  is  derived  from  the  teleological  character  of  our 

human  actions.     Man  is  either  supernatural,  or  he  is  a  part 

of  the  cosmos;  in  this  part  of  the  cosmos  teleological  action 

I  is  as  undeniable  as  the  reign  of  law  in  the  physical  universe. 

'   But,   if    the    doctrine    of    evolution    is    valid,    teleological 

processes   are  not  peculiar  to   man's  world;  they  must  be 

coextensive  with  organic  nature,    or  continuity,   which  is 

I  the  working  assumption  of  evolution,   is  broken.     Unless 

^.  nature  is  teleological,  there  is  a  gap  between  nature  and 

I  man;  and  this  is  something  which  no  consistent  upholder 

I  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  can  admit.     The  alternative 

'  would  seem  to  be,  either  there  is  no  teleological  action  in 

the  human  world,  or  nature,  out  of  which  man  has  come 

by  evolution,  is  teleological  also. 

But  this  argument,  which  is  based  upon  the  continuity 
of  man's  life  with  the  life  of  the  sub-human  kingdom,  is 
strengthened  by  a  collateral  argument  which,  though 
analogical,  is  very  strong.  There  is  an  identity  between 
the  productions  of  human  art  and  organic  structures  which 
are  produced  in  nature;  this  identity  holds  between  those 
marks  in  human  productions,  which  demand  a  teleological 
explanation,  and  certain  marks  observed  in  the  productions 
of  nature;  and  if  it  be  a  valid  principle  of  reasoning,  that 
like  effects  are  produced  by  like  causes,  it  would  seem  to  be 
incontrovertible,  that  if  these  productions  in  the  human 
world  necessitate  the  inference  to  a  teleological  cause,  or 
agent.  Productions  in  nature  which  exhibit  the  same  marks 
justify  the  inference  to  teleological  cause  as  their  only 
adequate  explanation.  Take,  for  example,  the  watch  in 
the  famous  argument  of  Archbishop  Paley,  and  the  human 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  139 

eye.  A  comparison  between  these  two  structures  shows 
that  in  certain  points  they  are  closely  alike,  we  may  say 
identical,  in  other  respects  they  are  manifestly  unlike;  the 
contention  of  the  teleologist  is,  that  analogy  between  the 
watch  and  the  eye  holds  in  the  circumstances  which  are 
essential  to  it — the  circumstances  which  are  material  in  the 
reasoning;  while  the  circumstances  in  which  these  produc- 
tions differ  are  not  material  to  the  inference  drawn.  The 
agreeing  circumstances  are:  (1)  Adaptation  to  a  specific 
purpose  or  function;  in  the  case  of  the  watch,  measuring 
time;  in  the  case  of  the  eye,  seeing.  (2)  The  concurrence 
of  a  number  of  different  processes  in  effecting  this  struc- 
tural adaptation,  the  several  wheels,  springs,  and  their  use 
in  enabling  the  watch  to  keep  time,  the  various  parts  of 
the  eye,  the  processes  which  go  on  in  each,  and  on  which 
sight  depends.  (3)  The  peculiar  relation  between  these 
parts  and  these  processes,  each  part  of  the  watch,  each 
movement  within  it,  so  adjusts  itself  to  the  other  parts 
and  movements  within  the  watch  as  if  it  took  account  of 
them,  and  knew  just  what  sort  of  structure  and  what  man- 
ner of  behavior  the  function  of  the  whole  structure  required 
of  it;  this  relation  of  interdependency  and  mutual  adjust- 
ment is  the  third  circumstance  in  which  teleological  pro- 
ductions of  man  agree  with  the  productions  of  organic 
nature.  • 

Now,  in  our  human  world,  whenever  we  come  upon  a 
production  or  a  structure,  which  presents  these  three  sets  of 
marks,  we  do  not  hesitate,  nay,  we  are  rationally  compelled 
to  assume  a  teleological  agency,  a  labor  working  to  an  end. 
And  this  connection  is  unaffected  by  any  knowledge  we 
may  have,  or  not  have,  concerning  the  particular  mechanical 


140  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

processes  or  agencies  by  which  this  structure  or  organ  was 
formed;  whether  the  watch  was  made  by  hand,  and  we 
observed  the  watchmaker  in  his  work,  or  whether  it  was 
made  by  a  watch-making  machine,  or,  let  it  be  even  sup- 
posed the  watch  greiu  or  gradually  came  into  being  we  know 
not  how;  that  which  compels  and  justifies  our  belief  in  an 
end-directed  agency  of  some  sort  remains  the  same. 

Now,  when  we  find  the  same  set  of  marks  in  the  case  of 
organic  structures,  can  we  avoid  the  same  inference  to  a 
teleological  principle,  or  agency,  in  nature  ?  Let  us  assume 
that  we  know  the  method  of  nature  in  the  production  of 
the  eye;  suppose  that  this  method  includes  a  great  num- 
ber and  variety  of  processes;  and  suppose  that  this  eye 
structure  is  the  final  stage  of  a  long  course  of  develop- 
ment, would  this  fact  affect  in  any  manner  the  belief 
that  the  eye  and  its  vision  was  an  end  toward  which  all 
these  forces  were  directed  ? 

f<f  IV.  OBJECTIONS  TO  TELEOLOGY 

I  have  thus  presented  what  I  am  disposed  to  think  is 
the  strongest  argument  for  the  teleological  interpretation 
of  nature.  Let  us  now  hear  what  answer  the  anti-teleologist 
will  make  to  this  reasoning.     He  will  reply: 

1.  "The  teleological  agency,  if  there  be  one,  nowhere  dis- 
penses with  the  need  of  mechanism;  this  agency  is  nowhere 
effective,  in  no  instance  attains  its  goal,  without  the  cooper- 
ation of  conditions  and  agencies  which  are  mechanical. 
Furthermore,  wherever  we  are  able  to  comprehend  these 
conditions,  and  the  agencies  which  operate  mechanically,  the 
result  for  which  the  teleological  explanation  is  claimed,  is  just 
that  result  which  is  necessary  in  the  given  conditions;  this  is 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  141 

true  even  of  the  productions  of  human  art,  man  produces 
nothing  by  art,  by  a  designing  intelHgence,  which  is  not 
absolutely  the  product  of  mechanically  acting  forces. 

2.  **In  the  second  place,  granting  that  teleology  is 
indisputable  in  the  human  world,  it  does  not  follow  that  it 
is  necessary  or  admissible  in  nature;  it  does  not  involve 
a  break  in  the  continuity  of  evolution  to  admit  a  teleological 
agency  in  man's  world,  and  to  deny  the  necessity  of  it  in 
the  subhuman  kingdom;  continuity  or  evolution  does  not 
exclude  the  coming  in  of  something  new,  something  not 
strictly  identical  with  what  already  is.  Mind  need  not 
exist  in  matter,  even  potentially,  in  order  that  the  law  of 
evolution  shall  not  be  broken.  A  teleological  principle 
or  agency  does  not  therefore  need  to  be  assumed  in  inorganic 
nature,  because  it  exists  in  a  more  advanced  stage  of  evolu- 
tion. The  teleologist's  argument  from  the  supposed  con- 
tinuity of  evolution  is  without  force. 

3.  *'Nor'*  continues  the  rejecter  of  teleology  *'is  the 
denier  of  teleology  forced  to  face  the  alternative  of  teleolog- 
ical explanation  or  chance  explanation,  which,  of  course,  is 
really  no  explanation.  The  time  was,  when  the  denier  of 
teleology  could  be  challenged  to  explain,  in  what  other 
way  could  the  wonderful  adaptations  and  organs  in  plants 
and  animals  have  been  brought  into  existence;  but  now 
that  time  has  passed,  thanks  to  the  discovery  of  natural 
selection,  a  vera  causa  in  nature,  the  way  out  of  that  dilemma 
is  open.  Evolution  by  natural  selection  quite  dispenses 
with  a  teleological  principle;  at  this  point  the  conten- 
tion is,  that  if  evolution  by  natural  selection  is  a  third 
alternative,  this  part  of  the  argument  for  teleology  breaks 
down.     And  this  leads  to  the  only  really  substantial  argu- 


142  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

merit  for  the  teleologist's  position,  the  argument  from 
the  analogy  of  organs  and  adaptations  in  nature  to  the 
productions  of  human  art.  All  the  evidence  there  is  of 
purpose  in  nature  is  drawn  from  this  assumed  identity 
between  the  marks  of  such  purposive  agency  exhibited 
in  the  human  world,  and  marks  exhibited  by  organic 
nature.  Now,  the  nerve  of  this  proof  is  analogical  infer- 
ence, a  form  of  inference  which  is  relatively  weak  in  its 
best  estate;  and  in  this  instance  weak,  because  of  the 
necessity  of  passing  beyond  the  field  of  our  human  experi- 
ence, within  which  verification  is  possible.  Our  knowl- 
edge that  our  actions  are  teleological  is  solely  experiential; 
directly  experiential  in  case  of  our  personal  actions,  and 
indirectly  experiential  in  case  of  the  actions  of  our  human 
fellows;  it  is  the  uniformity  of  our  experience,  and  that  only, 
which  constitutes  the  strength  of  our  belief  in  teleological 
agency  in  the  human  part  of  the  cosmos;  for  example,  the 
strength  of  the  belief,  that  the  watch  which  Paley's  man 
stumbled  upon  in  crossing  a  heath  had  a  contriving  mind 
for  its  author,  was  the  uniform  experience,  that  such  a  mind 
has  always  been  the  antecedent  fact,  when  a  watch  comes 
into  existence.  Now,  so  long  as  our  observation  is  limited 
\  to  products  of  human  art,  we  are  certain  that  a  purpose  or 
I  intention  or  design  was  their  antecedent  condition;  but, 
Iwhen  we  pass  beyond  the  sphere  of  our  human  actions 
^  and  their  products,  we  can  at  best  possess  no  such  certainty, 
and  our  belief,  if  it  is  to  rest  on  rational  grounds,  will  be 
weakened  just  in  proportion  as  we  have  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  ways  of  the  cosmos  are  unlike  our  ways.  Let  us 
suppose  Paley's  watch-finder  had  stumbled  upon  an  eye; 
now,  granting  that  the  eye  presents  a  set  of  marks,  very 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  143 

closely  resembling  those  marks  from  which  was  inferred 
an  intending  mind  in  the  case  of  the  watch,  would  he  have 
been  justified  in  inferring  a  non-human,  a  nature  mind, 
as  the  explainer  of  the  eye?  Hardly  so.  He  would 
remind  himself,  that  the  two  cases  are  separated  by  an 
important  difference;  he  has  had  experience  of  watch 
making,  of  eye  making  he  has  had  no  experience;  he  does, 
however,  know  that  in  other  respects  nature's  methods  are 
very  unlike  the  art  of  man;  he  would  consider  too,  that 
nature  possesses  resources  infinitely  more  vast  and  varied 
than  we  have  yet  suspected;  but,  what  is  of  decisive 
importance,  this  finder  of  the  eye,  if  he  had  chanced  to 
read  the  *  Origin  of  Species,'  would  find  it  quite  impossible 
to  regard  this  eye  as  the  product  of  an  intending,  purposive, 
thought;  on  the  contrary  he  could  only  view  it  as  the  final 
outcome  or  result  of  a  natural  course  of  things,  in  which 
there  is  no  trace  of  a  forelooking,  a  guiding  agency;  but 
the  natural,  the  inevitable  result  of  prior  and  contempora- 
neous conditions.  Thanks  to  the  discover}'  of  natural 
selection  we  know  the  way  in  which  nature  produces  these 
marvels  of  adaptive  structures,  to  which  the  teleologist 
could  always  so  confidently  appeal,  and  which,  before 
Darwin's  time,  did  indeed  present  an  insoluble  problem 
for  the  anti-teleologist.  And  we  now  see  that  nature's 
method  is  totally  unUke  our  human  art;  our  teleological 
agency;  and  therefore  the  argument,  resting  wholly  upon 
analogy,  utterly  breaks  down.  It  is  this  demonstrated  un- 
likeness  between  the  method  of  nature  and  the  agency  of 
man,  which  has  given  to  the  famous  teleological  argument 
of  Paley  its  death  blow." 

^'Examination  of  this  method  of  nature  in  the  production 


144  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

of  organisms  and  their  adaptive  structures,  shows  that  a 
teleological  agency  is  entirely  superfluous,  if  it  is  not  inad- 
missible; for  what  is  this  method  of  which  nature  brings 
into  existence  these  structural  adaptations  in  plants  and 
animals?  Briefly  it  is  the  following:  (1)  Offspring 
resemble  the  parent  organisms,  they  tend  to  repeat  or 
perpetuate  the  structure  of  the  parental  or  ancestral  organ- 
ism. They  also  tend  to  be  unHke  the  parent  organism, 
to  vary  in  almost  all  points  of  structure.  (2)  Organisms 
tend  to  multiply  at  such  a  rate  as  to  create  a  vast  excess  of 
living  beings  over  means  of  subsistence.  (3)  Organisms 
are  exposed  to  hostile  environmental  conditions;  they  must 
struggle  for  existence  not  only  against  these  adverse  physical 
conditions,  but  also  against  other  organisms  that  are  their 
competitors  for  the  means  of  subsistence. 

"Now,  with  these  facts  before  us,  we  can  understand  how 
natural  selection  has  operated  in  bringing  into  existence 
through  a  very  long  period  of  time  such  organic  structures 
as  the  eye,  the  wing,  the  wonderful  structures  seen  in  the 
vegetable  kingdom  as  well.  These  adaptative  organs  have 
come  to  exist,  because  only  those  creatures  which  possessed 
them  have  been  able  to  exist,  have  survived  in  the  struggle 
for  existence.  These  structures  have  been  gradually  formed 
by  the  accumulation  of  variations,  each  variation  in  the 
direction  of  better  flight,  better  seeing,  etc.,  being  of  decisive 
advantage  to  its  possessor,  a  very  slight  variation  being 
enough  to  determine  whether  the  individual  should  survive 
or  perish.  Now,  we  may  call  this  agency  of  nature,  selection; 
but  it  is  quite  unlike  man*s  selection,  though  it  may  lead  to 
a  like  result;  nature  selects  by  dooming  the  unfit,  by  elimi- 
nation of  those  organisms  which  are  ill-adapted  to  the  con- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  145 

ditions  of  life;  those  only  are  chosen,  which  happen  to  possess 
the  adaptive  organs  which  the  existing  conditions  call  for. 
Now,  this  selective  agency  of  nature  is  clearly  not  purposive; 
at  all  events,  it  need  not  be  so;  there  is  no  evidence  whatever 
that  it  is  teleological.  The  factors  operative  in  it  are  causal, 
and  blind  as  to  their  effect.  Natural  selection  wholly  dis- 
penses w^ith  the  need  of  a  teleological  principle  in  explaining 
the  facts  of  organic  nature.  We  shall  not  say  such  and  such 
special  organs  were  made,  in  order  to  enable  their  possessors 
to  live,  but  only  those  beings  which  possessed  these  organs 
have  been  able  to  live;  thanks  to  the  circumstances  of 
having  better  organs,  these  creatures  have  survived  while 
countless  thousands  which  did  not  have  them  perished." 

*'  But,"  the  teleologist  will  reply  to  this  reasoning,  "  natural 
selection  may  be  the  true  account  of  the  way  in  which  the 
species  of  plants  and  animals  have  been  created,  but  nature 
can  be  teleological,  and  we  have  here  a  strong  disposition 
to  see  in  nature  something  which  is  akin  to  our  own  minds; 
the  impulse  to  interpret  organic  phenomena  eveiy^'here 
teleologically,  is,  as  natural,  as  strong  as  the  disposition  to 
employ  the  causal  principle;  both  are  rational  methods  of 
dealing  with  our  world,  and  there  is  no  good  reason  for 
Kmiting  the  use  to  our  human  world."  "Nor  do  naturalists 
themselves  resist  this  propensity  to  explain  special  organs  in 
teleological  terms,  and  to  use  such  terms  as  for  the  purpose, 
in  order  that,  to  this  or  that  end,  indeed,  it  is  more  consonant 
with  our  rational  way  of  dealing  with  phenomena,  to  put 
functions  before  structure,  and  to  make  a  given  structure 
intelligible  from  the  point  of  \'iew  of  its  function,  rather 
than  to  explain  a  function  from  the  structure  with  which  it 
is  correlated." 


146  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

"Moreover,  is  it  not  true  that  the  behavior  of  all  living 
beings  whose  inner  states  we  can  in  any  degree  represent  to 
ourselves  is  teleological  no  less  than  our  own  behavior? 
No  living  being  in  action  is  a  mere  machine;  instincts,  im- 
pulses, cravings,  feelings,  the  will-to-live,  is  no  affair  of 
mere-mechanism;  there  is  a  movement  to  an  end,  motived 
by  something  which  seeks — or  tends  toward — what  is  not 
existent,  rather  than  just  blind  vis  a  tergo.  The  model  of  a 
machine  or  a  configuration  of  molecules  in  motion  does  not 
describe  the  behavior  of  the  lowest  forms  of  living  being; 
every  such  being  seems  to  reach  forward,  to  act  jor  some- 
thing rather  than  jrom  something  which  merely  drives  it  as 
a  wheel  in  a  machine  moves  its  neighboring  wheel,  a  body, 
the  body  it  impinges  upon,  by  mecJianical  thrust  or  blind 
force.'' 

"There  is  room  in  nature  for  both  mechanically  operative 
agencies  and  for  teleological  action.  Why  may  not  those 
variations  the  accumulation  of  which  the  Darwinian  nat- 
uralist supposes  to  have  resulted  in  the  formation  of  such 
structures  as  the  eye,  have  been  led  along  in  this  useful 
direction  by  an  intending  mind  ?  Indeed,  why  may  not 
natural  selection  itseK,  and  all  it  presupposes  be  a  method 
through  which  a  teleological  agent  attains  is  end  ?  Every- 
thing takes  place  under  the  operation  of  mechanical  princi- 
ples, everything  obeys  causal  law,  but  the  causal,  the  mechan- 
ical, are  not  ultimate  principles;  they  are  methods  through 
which  ends  are  realized.  The  machine  which  made  the 
paper  on  which  I  am  writing  doubtless  explains  the  existence 
of  this  particular  piece  of  paper;  this  sheet  as  to  size,  texture, 
lines,  etc.,  could  not  have  been  other  than  it  is,  given  the 
material  of  which  it  is  composed  and  the  sum  total  of  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY  147 

mechanically  operative  conditions  to  which  that  material 
was  subjected.  But  surely  this  mechanical  explanation  does 
not  exclude  a  teleological  interpretation  of  the  same  fact. 
The  mechanical  in  this  instance  must  itself  be  teleologically 
explained;  but  for  a  purposive  mind,  the  machine  would 
not  have  been.  The  only  point  that  is  material,  is  that  a 
purposive  agency  works  through  mechanical  processes  to 
the  realization  of  an  end,  and  in  so  doing  subordinates  the 
mechanical  to  the  teleological." 

If  it  is  objected,  that  we  do  not  know  the  ends  which  this 
supposed  cosmic  mind  has  before  it,  while  we  do  know  to 
some  extent  the  method  of  nature's  working.  Who  can 
declare  to  us  her  intentions,  her  meaning,  the  ends  she  has 
in  view.?  The  cautious  teleologist,  instructed  by  the  la- 
mentable failures  of  the  narrow  teleology  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  will  frankly  confess  we  know  nothing  in  detail 
about  the  teleological  agency;  whether  it  is  intelligent  in 
any  respect  after  our  human  type  or  not,  whether  it  possesses 
infinite  intelligence  or  only  finite  intelligence,  whether  all 
powerful  or  of  limited  power  only,  whether  good  without 
admixture  of  moral  imperfection  or  evil  in  some  degree. 
Organic  nature  certainly  does  not  reveal  infinite  intelligence 
or  unlimited  power  or  perfect  goodness;  nay,  she  gives  but 
few  indications  of  the  being  which  is  behind  her  wonderful 
but  mysterious  life;  but  the  teleologist  contends,  that  the 
ways  of  the  cosmos,  and  in  particular  organic  nature,  dis- 
closes other  than  merely  mechanical  agencies.  We  carry 
into  the  world  which  surrounds  and  contains  our  human 
selves  two  assumptions  or  postulates;  the  postulate  of  uni- 
versal causal  connection,  mechanical  regularity  in  the  behavior 
of  the  cosmos,  and  the  postulate  of  teleological  processes; 


148  THE  PROBLEM  OF  REALITY 

our  experience  in  part  verifies  both,  but  in  very  unequal 
degrees  and  in  quite  a  different  meaning  of  the  terms. 
If  nothing  more  is  meant  by  the  mechanical  character  of 
the  cosmos  than  the  routine  which  we  observe,  and  the 
universality  of  which  we  postulate,  certainly  both  our  com- 
mon experience  and  our  empirical  science  bears  out  this 
postulate;  we  describe  the  universe  in  terms  of  causal  trans- 
action and  machine-like  regularity;  so  far  as  we  possess 
accurate,  scientific  knowledge  that  knowledge  is  in  terms  of 
this  description.  But  tliis  knowledge  stops  short  of  the  goal 
of  our  desire  to  know  our  world;  the  nature  of  that  whose 
phenomenal  processes  we  have  learned  to  formulate  and 
describe  by  means  of  these  abstract  conceptions,  the  meaning 
of  the  deeper  reality  of  the  world,  is  the  quest  of  our  reason; 
and  this  deeper  meaning  can  be  expressed  only  in  teleological 
i  terms.  We  can  describe  what  merely  is,  or  what  comes 
to  be,  the  manner  of  its  coming  to  be,  the  observable  pro- 
cesses which  go  on  in  it;  but  were  the  real  world  only  that 
it  would  be  meaningless  and  without  value,  just  cosmic 
weather;  the  demand  that  the  real  world  shall  mean  some- 
thing, that  it  shall  have  value  or  include  values,  be  some- 
thing which  can  be  appreciated  as  well  as  described,  is  deeper 
in  our  rational  nature  than  is  the  want  we  satisfy  by  merely 
empirical  science. 


PART  II 
EPISTEMOLOGY 

CHAPTER  VII 
THE  DOCTRINE  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

In  this  part  of  our  study  we  shall  be  mainly  occupied  with 
three  theories  of  knowledge,  three  solutions  of  the  problem 
which  our  cognitive  experience  presents.  But  before  enter- 
ing upon  an  examination  of  these  doctrines,  we  must  first 
get  ourselves  oriented  with  reference  to  these  problems, 
and   the   different   solutions   which   have   been   attempted. 

THE  MEANING  OF  KNOWLEDGE 
The  first  question  which  naturally  comes  before  us  con- 
cerns the  meaning  of  knowledge,  what  is  it  to  know  ?  Our 
starting  point  shall  be  a  provisional  definition  to  this  effect. 
Knowledge  is  the  certainty  that  something  is.  This  defini- 
tion brings  into  view  a  distinction  which  is  fundamental  to 
the  meaning  of  knowledge.  This  distinction  is  that  of 
knower,  the  knowing  act  or  process,  and  the  thing  or  object 
known.  Knowing  and  someting  known  are  ultimate  and 
inseparable  facts  in  our  cognitive  experience.  We  shall  see 
that  the  central  problem  of  knowledge  concerns  these  two 
things  and  their  relation  to  each  other.  Our  definition 
gives  us  in  the  term  certainty,  the  ultimate  and  irreducible 
fact  on  the  side  of  the  cognitive  process  or  state.     Psycho- 

149 


150  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

logical  analysis,  introspection,  and  definition  can  go  no 
farther;  when  we  know,  we  are  certain;  that  term  describes 
our  mental  state  or  states  and  is  the  differentia  of  cognitive 
experience.  We  can,  I  think,  distinguish  three  kinds  or 
modes  of  experience;  we  can  characterize  them  by  three  ex- 
pressions which  Mr.  Ward  has  suggested:  '*I  know  some- 
what, I  feel  somehow,  I  do  something."  The  cognitive, 
the  feeling,  and  the  willing  functions  or  phases  of  our  mental 
life  are  well  marked  off  in  this  way.  Now  the  term  cer- 
tainty, being  certain,  undoubtedly  differentiates  the  cogni- 
tive form  of  our  mental  life. 

But  is  all  certainty  knowledge?  Whoever  knows  is 
certain;  but  does  everyone  who  is  certain  also  and  for  that 
reason  know  ?  Is  not  the  superstitious  man,  the  fanatic,  as 
certain  as  the  calm  thinker  who  can  demonstrate  the  exis- 
tence of  what  he  is  certain  of  ?  Nay,  is  not  the  sufferer  from 
delirium  certain  of  the  existence  of  the  objects  which  appall 
and  torment  him  ?  Must  we  not  therefore  amend  our 
tentative  definition  by  adding  something  which  enables  us  to 
distinguish  knowledge-certainty  from  certainty  which  is 
not  knowledge?  Suppose  we  define  knowledge  as  cer- 
tainty which  rests  upon  objective  grounds;  by  objective 
grounds  we  will  mean  a  certainty  which  all  minds  could  have 
in  the  same  situation,  a  common  certainty  instead  of  a  merely 
individual  or  private  certainty.  This  criterion  of  knowledge 
certainty  is  empirical.  In  a  given  situation  in  which  I 
might  be  certain,  I  could  not  determine  whether  my  cer- 
tainty is  knowledge-certainty,  unless  I  was  also  certain  that 
all  minds  in  my  situation  would  share  my  certainty;  but  how 
could  I  be  certain  of  that  fact  ?  W' ould  I  not  need  to  use 
the  same  criterion  again,  in  order  to  gain  cognitive  certainty 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  151 

of  this  third  fact,  and  so  on  ?  Would  I  ever  get  the  cognitive 
certainty  of  the  first  fact  by  this  empirical  criterion  ?  A 
cognitive  certainty  is  doubtless  one  which  all  minds  could 
feel  in  the  same  situation,  or  about  the  same  matter;  but  the 
difficulty  is  to  determine  in  any  specific  instance,  whether  or  \ 
not  we  liave  that  kind  of  certainty. 

Thus  the  criterion  proposed  seems  to  be  entirely  unser- 
viceable; it  seems  to  commit  us  to  an  endless  regress;  the 
fact  of  which  I  can  never  be  cognitively  certain,  is  that  my 
certainty  is  or  can  be  universal.  But  may  we  not  find  the 
criterion  of  knowledge-certainty  somewhere  in  the  knowing 
process  itself  ?  So  that  it  may  be  possible  for  the  knower 
to  Tinow  that  he  knows  ?  May  not  the  knowing  process 
afford  evidence  of  its  own  validity.?  It  is  customary  in 
epistemology  to  distinguish  two  forms  of  knowledge, 
immediate  and  mediate.  The  former  is  direct,  the  latter 
indirect.  In  immediate  knowledge,  knower,  knowing  and 
thought  and  object  known  are,  so  to  speak,  face  to  face;  •= 
they  are  in  direct  connection,  in  touch.  This  is  the  case 
in  experience;  to  experience  is  to  know;  the  experiencing  is 
the  knowing  or  gives  directly  or  at  first  hand  the  knowledge. 
Thus  I  know  my  here  and  now,  my  present  mind  states  and 
my  immediate  surroundings  because  I  experience  them. 
The  certainty  I  have  about  these  things  is  indefectible,  and 
needs  no  justification.  Mediate  knowledge  as  the  term  im- 
plies, is  brought  about  through  an  intermediary  operation 
or  process  of  which  knowledge-certainty  is  the  result,  or  ter- 
minus ad  quern.  The  essence  of  both  immediate  and  mediate 
certainty  being  knowledge,  their  difference  is  the  way  in 
which  this  certainty  is  produced.  In  immediate  knowl- 
edge it  comes  directly  out  of  experience,  is  the  fruit  of  that 


152  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

experience.  In  mediate  knowledge,  the  certainty  is  the 
outcome  of  a  process  or  operation  which  starts  with  some 
datum  of  known  fact,  and  working  from  that  and  upon  that, 
issues  in  another  fact.  Now  may  it  not  be  in  this  mediating 
operation,  this  intermediary  process,  that  we  find  the 
criterion  of  knowledge-certainty.?  This  process  is  self 
certifying,  and  carries  a  warrant  for  the  truth  of  the  connec- 
tion in  which  it  issues.  For  instance,  a  mathematician, 
after  going  through  an  operation  of  construction  and  reason- 
ing: comes  to  a  conclusion  or  result,  of  the  truth  of  which  he 
is  absolutely  certain;  this  complete  certainty  which  does  not 
permit  him  to  think  otherwise,  has  its  source,  its  justifica- 
tion in  the  mental  processes  through  which  it  is  reached.  \  In 
point  of  intensity  and  completeness,  the  mathematician's 
certainty  is  not  greater  or  more  compelling  than  is  the 
certainty  of  the  passionate  religious  believer;  but  do  we  not 
rightly  say  that  the  mathematician  knows  ?  while  of  the 
other  man  we  say  that  he  believes  but  does  not  know  ? 

This  difference  in  the  character  of  the  certainty  state  in 
the  two  cases  is  clearly  due  to  the  difference  in  the  sources 
and  grounds  of  this  certainty  in  each  case.  The  religious 
believer's  emotions,  his  desires,  the  yearnings  of  his  heart, 
may  be  the  sole  cause  of  his  perfect  certainty  that  the  object 
of  his  emotions,  the  satisfier  of  his  desires  and  yearnings, 
exist;  but  we  do  not  say  the  cause  of  this  state  of  mind 
is  also  a  justification  of  it,  as  we  do  say  in  the  case  of  the 
mathematical  thinker,  that  the  cause  of  his  being  certain  is 
also  the  justification  of  his  being  certain.  But  this  point 
will  come  up  again,  when  we  are  examining  the  theories  of 
knowledge. 

Meantime  we  must  deal  with  another  problem  growing 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  153 

out  of  our  present  undertaking,  namely  the  problem  of  the 
object  of  knowledge. 

In  knowing  we  know  an  object.  Now  the  question  which 
is  raised  by  this  fact  is,  is  this  object  independent  of  our 
knowing  act  or  process,  so  that  our  knowing  and  all  the 
operations  involved  in  knowing  make  no  difference  to  this 
object,  or  is  this  object  to  some  extent  at  least  determined, 
made  to  be  what  it  is,  by  the  knowing  process  ?  This  ques- 
tion states  the  issue  between  two  epistemological  doctrines, 
epistemological  realism  and  idealism.  The  reaUst  asserts 
that  things  known  may  continue  to  exist  when  they  are  not 
known,  or  that  things  may  pass  into  and  out  of  the  cognitive 
relation  without  prejudice  to  their  reality.  Things  known 
are  not  products  of  the  knowing  relation,  nor  are  they  de- 
pendent for  their  I  existence  and  behavior  upon  that  rela- 
tion. These  two  propositions  state  quite  clearly  the  doctrine 
of  epistemological  realism,  the  essence  of  which  is  that  know- 
ing, while  it  makes  a  difference  to  the  knower,  makes  no  dif- 
ference to  the  object  known;  the  only  thing  we  can  do  about 
reahty  in  our  cognitive  behavior  is  to  know  that  reality  as 
it  is,  while  it  remains  unaffected  by  our  knowing  it;  we 
cannot  both  know  and  make  a  change  in  the  thing  we  know, 
epistemological  realism  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
doctrine  which  is  commonly  called  realism;  that  is  a  meta- 
physical doctrine;  it  maintains,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  dualism,  that  in  perception  the  object  perceived 
is  non-mental  in  its  nature.  This  non-mental  nature  of  the 
object  is  an  essentail  part  of  metaphysical  realism.  For 
the  epistemological  realist,  the  object  can  be  mental  or 
psychical  as  well  as  material.  A  realistic  epistemologist 
who    should    have    observed    Robinson    Crusoe   sitting   in 


154  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

solitude  upon  his  rock,  would  have  had  two  sorts  of  objects 
both  equally  real,  Robinson  Crusoe's  mind  and  the  rock  on 
which  he  was  sitting.  Epistemologically  considered,  these 
objects  would  have  been  real  for  the  same  reason.  One 
thing  more  is  important  to  an  exact  statement  of  the  realist's 
position.  The  realist  does  not  maintain  that  a  real  object 
cannot  be  changed  by  our  action;  he  does  not  necessarily 
hold  that  reality  is  static  and  unchangeable;  he  admits  that 
we  alter  and  increase  the  reality  of  the  world.  What  he 
maintains  is  that  our  cognitive  action  or  knowing  does  not 
change  or  affect  the  existence  and  the  nature  of  what  we 
know.  His  contention  is  that  were  we  merely  knowers,  our 
real  world  for  us  would  never  change.  The  supposed  ob- 
server of  Robinson  Crusoe  might  doubtless  have  changed 
both  the  mental  object  and  the  material  object  of  his  know^l- 
edge;  he  might  have  persuaded  Robinson  to  leave  his  rock, 
and  he  might  have  destroyed  the  rock  with  dynamite;  but 
those  operations  would  have  been  quite  distinct  from  the 
cognitive  process,  though  they  might  have  gone  on  in  very 
close  connection  with  each  other. 

In  opposition  to  this  view  of  the  cognitive  relation,  the 
anti-realist  maintains  that  the  knowing  process  and  the  ob- 
ject known  cannot  stand  in  a  relation  in  which  one  of  the 
terms,  the  object,  is  independent  of  the  other,  the  knowing 
act.  No  knowledge  is  conceivable  if  such  be  the  relation 
between  the  knower  and  the  thing  to  be  known;  unless  in 
manner,  the  cognitive  process  determines  its  object,  un- 
less it  works  upon  it  and  gives  it  a  character,  a  significance 
in  accordance  with  its  own  principles  of  working.  He 
contends  that  the  realist's  object  since  it  is  independent*  . 
of  our  cognitive  thinking,  cannot  even  be  thought  about;  || I 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  155 

no  conception  or  idea  can  be  relevant  to  it;  it  can  there- 
fore have  no  meaning,  no  definable  content;  and  such 
an  object,  if  we  can  call  it  an  object,  is  absolutely  un- 
knowable. This  must  suffice  for  a  statement  of  two  doc- 
trines which  grow  out  of  the  central  problem  of  knowledge 
and  which  have  come  quite  to  the  fore  in  recent  epistemo- 
losical  discussions.  We  shall  come  back  to  them  for  fuller 
discussion  in  connection  with  the  three  leading  types  of  episte, 
mology,  which  await  our  study  Before  passing  to  this  part 
of  our  task,  however,  I  must  briefly  elucidate  one  more 
special  problem,  which  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
problem  of  the  object  in  knowledge;  it  is  the  problem  of 
Truth.  The  problem  relates  to  the  meaning  of  truth. 
We  shall  do  well  to  avoid  for  the  present,  the  abstract  term, 
truth,  and  state  the  fundamental  question  in  concrete  terms. 
Our  question,  therefore,  becomes,  what  is  a  true  idea,  a 
true  concept,  a  true  assertion  ?  The  ajective  term,  true  is 
properly  used,  only  as  the  predicate  of  an  idea,  a  thought, 
a  judgment,  etc.,  and  our  question  is,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
this  term  so  used.?  We  shall  later  see  that  two  leading 
doctrines  in  epistemology  are  sharply  opposed  by  the  an- 
swers they  give  to  this  apparently  simple  but  really  cardinal 
question.  We  shall  also  see  that  the  answer  one  gives  to  this 
question,  is  determined  by  his  conception  of  the  nature  and 
function  of  thinking,  by  his  conception  of  the  cognitive 
relation,  and  to  some  extent  by  his  conception  of  being,  or 
ultimate  reality. 

Suppose  that  one  is  a  realist,  then  he  must  mean  by  a  true 
idea,  one  which  agrees  or  corresponds  to,  or  somehow  copies 
its  object.  This  is  all  our  cognitive  thinking  can  do  about 
reahty;  it  can  in  no  wise  determine  the  nature,  the  mode  of 


156  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

existence  or  the  relation  the  object  shall  sustain  to  our 
minds ;  there  is  only  one  thing  the  knower  can  do  (provided 
he  really  can  do  that)  that  is,  to  have  a  true  idea  of  the 
object;  his  knowing  consists  in  his  consciously  having  such 
an  idea.  Just  what  it  means  or  really  is  for  an  idea  to  agree 
with  or  correspond  to  an  object,  and  especially  the  sort  of 
object  realism  supposes,  and  how  the  would-be  knower  can 
tell  when  he  has  a  true  idea,  are  questions  which  we  must 
face  farther  on.  I  raise  them  here  merely  to  bring  out  the 
character  and  the  significance  of  this  question  about  the 
meaning  of  truth.  The  anti-realist,  as  we  shall  see,  gives  a 
different  answer  to  this  question.  Our  cognitive  thinking, 
at  all  events,  helps  to  make  the  object,  and  co-determines  its 
meaning.  Then  a  true  idea  has  quite  a  different  function, 
and  sustains  a  different  relation  to  its  object,  from  the  func- 
tion and  its  relation  in  the  realist's  doctrine. 

A  few  words  upon  the  meaning  of  the  substantive  term, 
truth,  and  we  are  ready  for  the  main  business  we  have 
taken  in  hand.  It  will  conduce  to  clearness  and  safeguard 
us  from  errors,  if  we  keep  in  mind  that  truth  is  simply  an 
abstract  term,  the  connotation  is  determined  by  the  conno- 
tation of  the  concrete  term  true;  it  is  a  convenient,  general 
name  for  true  ideas,  true  judgments,  etc.,  and  just  as  every 
abstract  idea,  it  must  always  be  reduced  to  this  concrete 
connotation,  if  we  want  to  avoid  the  tendency  to  make 
entities  of  abstract  concepts,  and  treat  them  as  objective 
realities.  The  concept,  truth,  is  particularly  exposed  to 
this  mistreatment;  thus,  we  find  it  is  made  the  object,  the 
content,  or  the  subject  matter  of  knowledge.  Now,  to 
identify  truth  with  the  object  in  knowing,  to  use  the  term 
as  synonymous  with  reality,  creates  confusion,  and  is  seri- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  157 

ously  misleading;  it  would  be  better  in  our  thinking  and 
philosophical  discussion,  even  at  the  cost  of  circumlocution, 
to  avoid  the  use  of  this  abstract  term  altogether. 

The  various  theories  of  knowledge  can  be  reduced  to  three 
types:  they  are  rationalistic  or  empirical  or  pragmatic. 
Rationalism  is  the  oldest  of  these  general  theories  and  has 
the  prestige  of  long  tradition,  and  the  support  of  great  think- 
ers. Empiricism  stands  for  the  most  part  in  antithesis 
to  rationahsm,  and  historically  arose,  in  part,  as  a  reaction 
from  it,  in  part  from  the  establishment  of  the  modern 
physical  sciences.  Pragmatism  is  closely  related  to  empiri- 
cism, shares  with  it  an  almost  unquaHfied  opposition  to 
rationalism;  but  has  important  features  in  which  it  differs 
from  empiricism.  In  its  fundamental  principle  and  spirit, 
pragmatism  is  not  new,  but  as  a  developed  theory  of  knowl- 
edge, it  is  of  recent  date,  and  just  now  may  be  said  to  be 
strongly  in  the  field. 

We  will  begin  our  study  with  rationalism.  I  will  first 
state  the  essential  doctrine  which  all  rationalists,  however 
widely  they  differ  on  subordinate  points,  hold  in  common. 

I.  RATIONALISM 

Rationalism  is  the  doctrine  which  teaches  that  reason  or 
thought  is  the  source  and  affords  the  constructive  principles 
of  all  knowledge.  Reason  or  intellect  operating  in  the  form 
of  self  evident  judgments,  or  by  processes  of  reasoning 
which  rest  upon  such  judgments,  is  the  creator  of  scientific 
knowledge.  However  much  the  mind  may  be  affected  by 
the  action  of  objects  upon  our  senses,  however  dependent 
our  knowledge  may  be  upon  such  affection  of  sense  for 
stimulus  and  for  data  upon  which  thought  acts,  it  is  solely 


158  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

in  virtue  of  its  own  self  originated  operations  that  the  mind 
attains  to  knowledge.     Sense  experiences  may  supply  the 
stimulus,  the  occasion,  but  knowledge  is  not  born  of  experi- 
ence.    Only  as  the  data  of  experience  are  elaborated  by  a 
power  that  is  quite  other  than  sense  or  memory  or  imagina- 
tion, is  there  such  a  product  as  knowledge.     The  older 
rationalists  concede  that,  without  these  a  priori  principles, 
we  might  possess  knowledge  of  individual  objects,  and  par- 
ticular truths  about  them,  but  they  maintained  that  knowl- 
edge of  particulars  is  contingent,  and  not  entitled  to  be  called 
true  or  scientific  knowledge.     The  content  of  genuine  knowl- 
edge are  universal  and  necessary  truths;  and  such  knowledge 
is  possible  only  if  our  reason  itself,  independent  of  all  con- 
tingencies of  experience,  is  the  source  of  principles  or  judg- 
ments, which  being  seK-evident,  are  the  foundation  of  scien- 
tific knowledge.     The  whole  body  of  scientific  knowledge  is 
possible  only  if  there  are  principles  of  thought,  which  not 
being  derived  from  experience,  are  valid  for  all  possible 
experience.     This  statement  covers,  I  think,  all  the  essential 
points  in  the  doctrine  of  rationahsm. 

Proceeding  now  to  an  examination  of  this  theory  of  knowl- 
edge, we  note  as  the  first  important  point  the  rationalistic 
conception  of  the  knowing  process.  This  process  is  purely 
intellectual  thinking,  following  certain  laws  or  regulative 
principles  as  the  source  of  all  knowledge  which  is  not  immedi- 
ate. Feeling  and  will  do  not  enter  into  the  cognitive  process 
as  such;  all  knowing  is  an  affair  of  intellect:  intellect  is 
the  source  and  intellect  supplies  the  criterion  and  deter- 
mines the  validity  of  knowledge;  we  penetrate  reality,  know 
its  natu  e  by  our  intellect.  This  is  the  sole  organ  of  knowl- 
edge.    The  reality  we  know  may  afford  us  pleasure  or  pain. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  159 

may  excite  our  wonder,  our  admiration,  or  our  aversion; 
it  may  call  forth  our  love  or  provoke  our  hate,  it  may  also 
call  forth  our  active  response.  We  may  seek  to  possess  it 
for  practical  uses;  we  may  seek  to  change  or  destroy  it; 
we  may  act  toward  it  in  all  sorts  of  ways  and  suffer  variously 
from  it;  but  this  object,  this  reahty  must  first  be  our  known 
object;  and  it  is  by  intellect  alone  that  it  is  our  known  object. 
Wants,  hopes,  fears,  the  demands  of  our  active  natures  may 
dispose  us,  may  compel  us  to  believe  this  or  that  concerning 
the  real  world,  but  it  is  intellect  alone  which  judges  our  be- 
liefs, decides  upon  their  claims  to  truth.  The  right  to  be- 
lieve is  determined  by  the  intellect.  The  second  point  to 
be  noted  in  the  rationahst's  theory  is  his  conception  of  the 
cognitive  relation.  The  rationalists  before  Kant  were 
realists.  Kant  was  the  first  to  bring  in  an  important  modi- 
fication of  rationalistic  epistemology  on  this  point  of  the 
object  in  knowledge.  For  the  pre-Kantian  rationahsts 
the  problem  was  to  explain  how  there  can  be  knowledge  of 
an  object  which  is  independent  of  the  knowing  process.  K 
the  object  is  in  no  way  determined  by  the  knowing  thought, 
how  is  the  thought  able  to  know  it  ? 

As  we  have  seen,  on  this  view  of  the  object,  the  only  rela- 
tion between  the  knower  and  the  thing  known  is  the  relation 
of  an  idea  to  its  object.  The  idea  does  not  determine  its 
object,  the  object  remains  unaffected  by  whatever  the  idea 
may  do  or  intend;  the  only  thing  the  idea  can  do,  is  to  be 
true  or  fail  of  being  true  of  its  object;  and  this  trueness  of  the 
idea  we  are  told,  is  its  agreement  with,  or  correspondence  to, 
the  object.  But  what  is  it  for  an  idea  to  agree  with  or  corre- 
spond to  an  object  ?  Realistic  rationalists  have  not  until 
recently   been  aware  that  this   question   is   pertinent  and 


160  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

really  serious  for  their  theory.  The  difficulty  involved  has 
not  been  apparently  perceived.  Instead  of  defining  truth 
as  the  agreement  between  thought  and  reality,  let  the 
truth  mean  the  identity  between  the  thing  in  fact  which 
is  asserted,  and  what  really  exists.  My  assertion  is  true  if 
what  I  assert  is  as  it  is  asserted.  But  the  definition  of  truth 
in  terms  of  assertion,  evades  rather  than  solves  the  difficulty. 
Some  realists  stay  resolutely  by  the  abstract  definition  and 
maintain  that  the  terms  agreement,  correspondence,  need  no 
explanation;  the  definition  is  reduced  to  its  simplest  terms 
already.  But  is  there  not  a  real  difficulty  here  which  the 
epistemologists  of  this  class  have  not  rightly  faced  ?  We  have 
no  difficulty  when  we  are  seeking  for  correspondence,  agree- 
ment between  two  objects,  two  spatial  figures  or  two  series 
of  numbers,  etc.,  in  defining  our  meaning.  But  can  agree- 
ment, correspondence  mean  the  same  thing  when  one  of  the 
things  compared  is  an  idea  or  thought  ?  In  what  way  or  in 
what  intelligible  sense  of  the  term  can  an  idea  agree  with, 
correspond  to,  an  object  which  by  supposition  is  nothing  to 
this  idea,  is  wholly  independent  of  it?  This  question  can 
hardly  be  dismissed  as  idle  or  captious.  It  brings  to  light 
a  serious  difficulty,  which  the  upholders  of  realistic 
rationalism  do  not  appear  to  have  recognized.  But  let  us 
suppose  this  difficulty  is  removed  and  we  have  a  clear  concep- 
tion of  this  truth  relation  between  idea  and  object.  The 
question  then  comes,  how  is  this  agreement  between  idea  and 
object,  between  our  thought  and  reality  brought  about? 
The  idea  does  nothing  to  make  the  object  agree  with  it;  the 
object  does  nothing  to  the  idea  to  make  it  agree  with  itself; 
how  then  do  they  come  into  agreement  ?  Our  thinking 
follows  its  laws,  and  things  independent  of  our  thinking 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  161 

follow  their  own  laws;  how  explain  their  agreement  ?  Inter- 
action being  excluded  there  seems  to  be  but  one  explanation, 
pre-established  harmony  as  in  the  case  of  Leibniz's  monads; 
it  must  be  assumed  that  our  minds  on  the  one  side  are  so 
constituted,  and  the  real  world  on  the  other  side  is  so  con- 
stituted, that  there  is  a  parallelism  between  them.  The 
basis  of  this  parallelism  of  thought  and  the  world  have  to 
be  sought  in  the  nature  of  being. 

But,  waiving  this  difficulty,  another  one  meets  us;  it  re- 
lates to  our  possible  knowledge  of  the  object.  Granted  that 
I  have  a  true  idea  of  a  given  object,  say  conditions  on  the 
planet  Mars,  I  do  not  yet  know  that  fact,  unless  I  know  or 
am  certain  that  my  idea  is  true.  Now  how  can  I  possess 
this  certainty  ?  How  can  I  tell  whether  my  idea  is  true  or 
false  ?  There  is  only  one  way  in  which  this  knowledge 
would  seem  to  be  possible;  there  must  be  something  in  my 
idea  itself,  which  affords  the  infallible  sign  of  its  truth,  some- 
thing in  my  mind  must  authenticate  my  thinking,  something 
analogous  to  a  bell  that  rings,  when  one  has  hit  the  target. 
The  most  consistent  of  the  older  rationalists  boldly  main- 
tained this  seK-evidence  of  truth,  this  criterion  of  knowledge 
within  the  idea  itself.  *'For  a  man  to  say,"  declares  Spinoza, 
**that  he  has  an  adequate  idea  and  yet  he  does  not  know 
whether  that  idea  is  true  or  false,  is  the  same  as  to  say  that 
he  has  an  idea,  yet  does  not  know  whether  he  has  an  idea  or 
not."  Spinoza's  way  of  facing  this  difficulty  is  the  only  one 
for  a  consistent  rationalist  of  the  older  type;  an  heroic  ex- 
pedient but  a  fatal  one.  It  w^as  this  failure  of  the  earlier 
rationalists  to  explain  knowledge  and  truth  which  led  Kant 
to  abandon  its  realistic  epistemology,  and  in  a  large  measure 
its  realistic  metaphysics. 


162  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

But  may  not  the  realistic  rationalist  overcome  this  diffi- 
culty by  the  following  expedient;  namely,  Treat  the  given 
idea  as  an  hypothesis  and  develop  the  consequences  which 
follow  if  the  idea  is  true;  then  a  comparison  between  the 
consequences  and  the  already  know  facts  will  afford  the 
criterion  of  knowledge.  Thus  my  present  idea  of  the  planet 
Mars  is  now  true  or  false.  Let  me  suppose  the  idea  is  true. 
Then  if  Mars  is  as  I  think  it,  certain  phenomena  should  be 
observed,  it  should  behave  in  a  certain  way,  other  facts  in 
the  planetary  system  should  be  observed;  now  suppose  sub- 
sequent observation  discovers  all  of  these  deduced  from  the 
supposed  conception  of  Mars;  and,  let  us  further  suppose 
that  no  other  conception  of  Mars  will  lead  to  the  facts; 
should  I  not  be  justified  in  holding  my  idea  to  be  true  ?  In 
other  words,  would  I  not  have  attained  the  knowledge  that 
my  idea  was  true  ?  If  so,  then  it  would  seem  possible  for  the 
realist  to  verify  his  ideas,  or  to  know  that  they  are  true;  or 
failing  to  verify  them,  know  that  they  fail  of  being  true. 
Of  course,  this  verification  is  a  thing  of  degrees,  it  can  be 
slight,  barely  enough  to  establish  just  a  probability;  it  can  be 
complete  and  the  probability  of  truth  would  then  be  close  to 
certainty,  so  close  as  to  exclude  any  serious  or  significant 
doubt.  This  expedient  might  afford  the  realist  a  solution 
of  his  difficulty;  but  it  would  not  be  available  for  a  realist 
who  was  also  a  rationalist.  Thoroughgoing  and  consistent 
rationalism  cannot  admit  experience  as  an  element  in  knowl- 
edge. It  can  accept  no  criterion  of  knowledge  derived  from 
experience.  The  method  of  verification  suggested  would 
contradict  the  fundamental  principles  of  rationalism.  The 
older  rationalists  were  quite  aware  of  this  fact;  and  hence 
rationalistic  philosophy  has  never  recognized  the  method  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDCxE  163 

hypothesis  in  knowledge;  for  the  method  is  essentially 
empirical. 

But  the  rationalist  philosopher  need  not  be  a  realist  in 
his  epistemology.  Since  the  time  of  Kant  the  great  rational- 
ists have  rejected  that  doctrine.  Beginning  with  Kant  an 
idealistic  epistemology  has  prevailed  in  the  main  tradition  of 
philosophy.  The  essence  of  epistemological  idealism  is 
that  the  knowing  process  determines  the  object.  To  some 
extent,  at  least,  it  creates  this  object,  or  if  it  does  not  in 
proper  meaning  of  the  term  create  its  object,  it  so  far  pre- 
determines its  character,  as  to  place  the  criterion  of  knowl- 
edge within  the  knowing  process.  Now%  it  is  possible  to 
admit  that  thought  or  the  knowing  process  does  not  create 
or  predetermine  all  that  is  real,  all  that  pertains  to  the  object 
and  yet  to  maintain  that  this  knowing  process  does  create  or 
predetermine  reality  so  far  as  we  know  it  at  all.  The 
residuum  of  reality  which  does  not  come  within  the  sphere 
of  knowledge,  we  may  distinguish  as  thing  in  itself,  or  things 
in  themselves;  and  consequently,  the  objects  we  know  are 
phenomena.  The  substance  of  this  view  is,  that  our  know- 
ing thought  creates,  predetermines  the  reality  it  knows;  but 
there  is  reality  which  it  does  not  determine  and  therefore, 
does  not  know. 

It  is  also  possible  to  maintain  that  knowing-thought  and 
reality  are  coextensive;  that  all  that  is  real  is  known  by  the 
same  knower,  is  that  knower's  object,  and  is  wholly  created 
or  predetermined  by  that  knowing  process.  Clearly  we 
have  here  two  points  of  view  and  two  forms  of  idealistic 
rationalism,  determined  by  the  point  of  view  taken.  In  one 
of  these  forms  of  rationalism,  the  point  of  view  taken  is  our 
human  intelligence,  assumed  to  be  finite  and  which  does  not 


164  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

in  its  knowing  transcend  its  finiteness.  The  point  of  view  in 
the  other  doctrine  is  that  of  an  Absolute  Mind,  an  AU- 
Knower  of  which  our  human  minds  are  assumed  to  be  finite 
parts,  fragmentary  portions,  in  essence  identical  with  one 
all  inclusive  and  containing  mind,  only  different  as  the  part 
or  the  fragment  differs  from  the  whole,  the  partial  from  the 
complete,  the  imperfect  from  the  perfect.  Hence,  what  this 
Absolute  Thinker  thinks,  what  he  knows,  is  identical  with 
that  which  our  human,  partial,  and  fragmentary  minds 
would  think  and  know,  were  they  simply  made  complete  and 
perfect.  So  far  as  we  know,  we  know  reality  as  it  is,  and 
not  as  it  appears.  I  have  thus  outlined  two  typical  forms 
of  ideahstic  rationalism.  The  difference  between  these 
doctrines  is  important  enough  to  justify  a  more  particular 
study.  I  shall  therefore  select  two  philosophers  as  repre- 
sentatives of  these  epistemological  doctrines.  Kant  is  the 
representative  of  the  doctrine  which  makes  our  human  mind 
the  only  knower.  I  select  Professor  Royce  as  the  best  repre- 
sentative of  the  doctrine  which  makes  an  Absolute  Mind  the 
knower. 

II.  KANT'S  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

We  will  first  study  the  rationahsm  of  Kant,  which  is  con- 
tained in  the  famous  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  and  also  in 
Prologomena  to  Metaphysics.  Kant  began  his  philosophical 
career  an  othodox  rationalist.  His  earlier  writings  give  no 
hint  that  he  did  not  find  that  doctrine  satisfactory.  But  the 
time  came  when,  despite  the  natural  conservatism  of  his 
mind,  he  no  longer  accepted  the  rationalism  in  which  he  had 
been  bred.  He  was  forced  to  recognize  a  contradiction  be- 
tween traditional  rationalism  and  what  he  regarded  as  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  1C5 

indispensable  facts  of  the  world.  Kant  was  too  thorough 
and  too  appreciative  a  student  of  the  new  science  of  nature 
to  question  its  claims  to  actual  knowledge;  and  between  the 
teachings  of  science  and  the  rationalism  he  had  held,  there 
were  discrepancies  he  could  not  remove;  and  science  had  dis- 
closed facts  for  which  rationalism  could  give  no  explanation. 
One  of  these  facts  was  the  behavior  of  two  physical  bodies, 
meeting  each  other  in  motion.  Kant  saw  that  the  natural 
law  of  contradiction  did  not  explain  the  behavior  of  these 
two  bodies;  indeed,  this  law  was  distinctly  contradicted  by 
the  fact  of  action  and  reaction.  The  significance  of  this 
single  discovery  was  momentous  for  Kant;  for  he  saw  in  it 
an  irreconcilable  contradiction  between  his  hitherto  accepted 
theory  of  knowledge  and  the  real  world  as  physical  science 
was  revealing  it.  Kant  soon  made  other  discoveries  which 
brought  him  to  the  point  of  definitive  abandonment  of  tra- 
ditional rationalism.  It  was  clear  to  him  that  rationalism 
did  not  explain  our  knowledge  of  nature.  Kant  could  as 
little  question  the  existence  of  a  science  of  nature  as  the  ex- 
istence of  the  science  of  mathematics;  and  his  rejection  of 
traditional  rationalism  was  because  it  completely  failed  to 
explain  this  science.  Kant  formulated  the  problem  of 
knowledge  in  the  two  questions,  How  is  science  of  mathe- 
matics possible?  How  is  the  science  of  nature  possible? 
Now,  the  substance  of  the  famous  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  is 
the  answer  to  these  two  questions.  Kant's  originality  lay  in 
his  way  of  answering  these  questions.  Kant  distinctly 
claimed  that  no  one  before  him  had  taken  the  path  he  had 
entered;  that  no  philosopher  had  solved  these  two  problems. 
Rationalism  had  accepted  mathematics,  nay,  made  it  the 
type  of  true  knowledge;  but  rationalists  had  not  solved  the 


166  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

problem  of  this  science,  had  not  given  the  right  answer  to  the 
question,  How  is  the  science  of  mathematics  possible  ? 
Rationalism,  of  course,  could  make  nothing  out  of  the 
science  of  nature — much  less  solve  the  problem  it  presented. 
The  empirical  philosophers,  Locke  and  Hume,  while  they 
accepted  with  the  rationalists  the  science  of  mathematics, 
could  not  answer  the  question,  how  is  such  a  science  possible  ? 
And  as  to  a  science  of  nature,  this  they  distinctly  denied. 
Locke  had  expressly  asserted,  we  possess  no  scientific  knowl- 
edge of  nature,  and  Hume's  doctrine  had  come  to  the  same 
result.  Now,  against  both  the  rationalists  who  had  pre- 
ceded him  and  against  the  empiricists  whom  he  at  one  time 
seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  following,  Kant  asserts  the 
equal  validity  of  these  two  sciences,  and  undertook  to  ex- 
plain their  possibility.  It  has  been  objected  that  Kant  had 
no  right  to  assume  the  fact  of  a  science  of  nature;  his  first 
question  should  have  been,  is  a  science  of  nature  possible  ? 
Not  how  is  such  a  science  possible.  Kant's  answer  to  this 
objection  would  probably  have  been  *'In  explaining  how  a 
science  of  nature  is  possible,  I  have  at  the  same  time  estab- 
lished the  fact  of  this  science." 

The  presupposition  of  Kant's  epistemology  was  that  the 
problem  of  our  human  knowledge  had  before  him  not  been 
rightly  understood,  much  less  solved.  It  is  to  this  fact  that 
Kant  attributed  the  deplorable  state  into  which  metaphysics, 
at  one  time  the  queen  of  sciences,  had  fallen.  It  was  both 
distrusted  and  despised.  Philosophy  can  regain  her  former 
respect  and  authority,  only  if  a  new  foundation  can  be  given 
it,  and  that  foundation  is  the  solution  of  the  problem  of 
knowledge.  Now  one  reason  why  Kant's  rationalistic 
predecessors  had  failed  to  solve  the  problem  of  knowledge. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNO^^LEDGE  167 

was  the  realistic  assumption  regarding  the  object  in  knowl- 
edge, and  consequently  their  wrong  conception  of  the  nature 
and  the  function  of  knowledge.     They  had  assumed  that  the 
aim  of  knowledge  was  in  some  manner  to  copy  or  reproduce 
in  the  mind,  objects  which  exist  wholly  independent  of  the 
knowing  process,  things  in  themselves.     The  only  function 
of  our  minds  in  relation  to  such  objects,  must  be  to  copy 
them,  or  reproduce  them  in  the  form  of  ideas  or  judgments. 
Hume  had  drawn  the  right  conclusion  from  this  conception 
of  knowledge;  he  had  shown  that  even  did  an  agreement  be- 
tween our  thought  and  objects  of  this  kind  exist,  there  is  no 
way  in  which  we  could  be  rationally  certain  of  it;  and  con- 
sequently we  possess  only  a  knowledge  of  ideas,  no  actual 
know^ledge  of  matter  of  fact.     The  rationahstic  criterion  of 
truth  is  merely  subjective,  it  can  merely  tell  us  whether  or 
not  our  ideas  are  consistent  w^ith  each  other,  whether  or  not 
they  are  formally  true,  never  whether  or  not  these  ideas  are 
objectively  true.     Now  Kant  frankly  admitted  that,  upon 
the  assumption  that  things  in  themselves  are  the  objects  of 
our  know  ledge,  the  problem  of  knowledge  is  insoluble,  and 
Hume's  scepticism  w^as  unanswerable. 

But,  just  in  this  realistic  conception  of  knowledge  lay  the 
root  error  of  preKantian  rationalism.  Against  this  doc- 
trine Kant  maintained  that  the  objects  of  our  knowledge,  the 
field  of  science,  the  real  world  which  it  is  the  aim  of  science 
to  know,  is  not  a  realm  which  lies  beyond  the  limits  of  ex- 
perience, occupied  by  so-called  things  in  themselves;  the 
objects  w^e  know,  the  only  objects  we  can  know,  are  objects 
of  possible  experience,  not  objects  out  of  relation  to  experi- 
ence; there  are  no  such  objects.  By  objects  of  possible 
experience,  Kant  means  objects  which  exist  in,  as  well  as  for, 


168  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

our  experience,  objects  which  are  presentable  under  condi- 
tions of  experience,  and  are  definable  in  terms  of  experience; 
as  to  content,  they  do  not  differ  from  Berkeley's  objects  of 
perception;  they  are  actual  and  possible  sense  perceptions, 
groups  of  sensibles.  Thus,  does  Kant  introduce  a  profound 
modification  in  the  doctrine  of  rationalism,  with  the  impor- 
tant consequence  that  he  incorporates  a  part  of  the  opposing 
doctrine  of  empiricism,  namely,  that  experience  is  essential 
to  our  knowledge,  that  it  affords  the  test  of  validity,  and 
determines  the  limits  of  our  knowledge. 

The  second  error  Kant  discovered  in  the  older  rationalism, 
was  the  conception  of  the  source  and  method  of  our  human 
knowledge.  But  empiricism  was  likewise  in  error  on  the 
same  point.  On  the  side  of  rationalism,  the  error  related  to, 
the  nature,  the  function  of  thought  in  knowledge;  on  the 
side  of  empiricism,  there  was  an  erroneous  conception  of  the 
function  of  experience  in  the  production  of  knowledge. 
Rationalism  had  maintained  that  thought  alone,  operating 
in  accordance  with  its  own  immanent  principles,  creates  its 
knowledge;  and  it  rejected  experience  as  a  source  or  factor 
in  knowledge.  TJie  empiricist  had  maintained  that  experi- 
ence alone  is  the  original  source  of  knowledge;  all  our 
human  knowledge  is  from  experience  was  the  dictum  of  em- 
piricism. The  empiricist  denied  that  thought  is  an  orig- 
inal source  of  knowledge.  Now  Kant  found  a  measure  of 
truth  in  each  of  these  hitherto  antagonistic  doctrines;  each 
doctrine  was  in  part  right  in  what  it  affirmed,  and  in  part 
wrong  in  what  it  denied.  With  the  rationalist,  Kant  asserted 
that  thought  is  an  original  and  indispensable  element  or 
factor  in  knowledge;  with  the  empiricist,  Kant  held  that  with- 
out experience,  and  apart  from  experience  we  possess  no 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  169 

knowledge;  experience  is  an  original  and  indispensable 
factor  in  knowledge.  Kant's  solution  of  the  knowledge 
problem  unites  the  part  truths  in  both  these  doctrines,  neither 
of  which  by  itself  is  true.  Neither  thought  alone,  nor  ex- 
perience alone  give  knowledge;  both  must  be  united  as  co- 
operant  factors,  if  we  are  to  explain  knowledge.  The 
rationalist  was  right  in  his  insistence  upon  a  universal  in 
knowledge.  It  is  the  function  of  thought  to  supply  this 
constituent.  But  it  is  true  also,  that  our  knowledge  must 
have  matter  of  fact,  concrete  reality  in  its  objects,  other- 
wise it  is  formal  only;  experience  alone  can  supply  the 
matter  of  knowledge,  or  rather  matter  as  the  data  for  knowl- 
edge; this  was  the  truth  in  the  doctrine  of  empiricism. 

We  must  therefore  (to  follow  Kant)  recognize  two  distinct 
and  original  sources  of  knowledge,  and  assume  that  though 
different  in  their  natures,  they  cooperate  in  the  production  of 
knowledge;  our  knowledge  is  due  to  a  sjTithesis  of  these  two 
principles.  Kant  claimed  that  the  analysis  of  knowledge 
discloses  the  cooperation  or  synthesis  of  these  two  functions ; 
one  he  calls  sense,  the  other  understanding.  Sense  supplies 
two  constituents,  matter  of  sensation,  which  he  calls  intuition 
and  two  forms  of  synthesis  of  the  mainf old  of  sense,  which  he 
calls  intuitions  of  space  and  time.  The  understanding 
furnishes  the  formative,  constructive,  and  regulative  prin- 
ciples of  knowledge;  these  form  giving  and  moulding  prin- 
ciples Kant  called  the  categories.  They  are  such  concepts 
as  substance,  number,  quantity,  cause,  etc.  These  thought 
functions,  taken  apart  from  the  matter  supplied  by  sensation, 
can  give  no  knowledge  of  objects,  any  more  than  a  paper- 
making  machine  can  make  paper  without  pulp,  or  a  loom 
weave  a  fabric  ^-ithout  raw  material  which  can  be  fashioned 


170  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

into  the  patterns.  On  the  other  side  sense  experience  with- 
out thought,  can  give  no  knowledge;  for  sense  experience 
furnishes  the  raw  materials  for  knowledge;  and  but  for  the 
operation  of  thought,  this  material  would  remain  raw  ma- 
terial; just  as  the  material  of  the  paper  would  remain  pulp, 
if  it  were  not  taken  up  and  wrought  into  paper.  *' Intuition 
without  understanding  is  blind  and  understanding  without 
intuition  is  empty,"  said  Kant.  Thus,  by  a  process 
crudely  analogous  to  that  of  weaving  cloth  by  a  loom,  does 
Kant  suppose  the  consituent  factors,  thought  and  sense  are 
woven  into  the  fabric  of  knowledge.  Of  course,  the  differ- 
ence between  the  mind  and  a  machine  working  upon  dead 
matter  is  very  great;  but  as  Kant  seems  to  look  at  the  matter, 
there  is  about  as  little  inner  connection  between  understand- 
ing and  sense,  as  there  is  between  the  loom  and  its  fixed 
patterns  and  the  raw  materials  of  which  the  cloth  is  made. 
Our  thought  never  supplies  the  matter  of  its  objects;  and 
this  sensation  matter  never  takes  form  of  itself;  how  these 
are  brought  together,  how  this  peculiar  synthesis  of  things 
which  in  their  natures  are  assumed  to  be  so  unlike,  Kant 
does  not,  I  think  explain. 

But  in  order  to  make  clearer  Kant's  meaning,  and  to  bring 
out  the  particularity  of  his  epistemology,  I  will  take  one  or 
two  concrete  illustrations.  Let  us  take  first  the  perception 
of  an  object.  We  have  two  classes  of  elements  which  enter 
into  the  formation  of  this  object,  (1)  sensations,  cold,  pres- 
sure, smell,  taste,  etc.  (2)  a  certain  order  or  arrangement 
and  connection  which  this  matter,  these  sensations  assume, 
and  must  assume  in  order  to  become  an  individual  object. 
One  of  these  form  elements  is  space;  the  sensations  of  them- 
selves do  not  give  this  form  or  order  of  arrangement;  by 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  171 

themselves  they  are  a  chaotic  manifold.  This  space  form 
is  given  to  the  matter  of  sensation  by  the  mind,  just  as  the 
particular  pattern  or  design  is  in  the  loom,  not  in  the  material 
which  is  fashioned  by  it.  Again  it  is  not  in  the  sensation 
matter,  the  raw  material,  that  we  find  the  unity-giving 
principle,  the  synthetic  unity  whereby  the  mass  of  sensations 
becomes  one  individual  thing;  this  unity-giving  function 
belongs  to  the  mind,  the  understanding.  In  its  pure  form 
it  is  the  logical  category  of  unity,  and  of  subject.  This 
individual  object  is  consequently  the  product  of  the  coopera- 
tion of  these  two  in  their  natures  different  factors;  sensations 
and  the  form-giving  and  individualizing  principle  supplied 
by  the  understanding. 

Take  next  an  example  of  causal  connection.  If  we 
analyze  this  experience,  we  find  two  facts;  one  is  the  succes- 
sion of  perceptions,  which  may  be  the  perceptions  of  the 
individual  mind  and  may  be  a  reversible  succession;  the 
other  fact  is  that  of  a  succession  in  time  which  is  not  that  of 
an  individual  mind  only,  but  of  all  minds;  an  objective 
succession  in  time.  Now  in  order  to  know  a  causal  connec- 
tion between  two  phenomena,  I  must  know  that  the  suc- 
cession in  time  is  objective;  the  succession  in  time  must  be  a 
necessary  one.  Such  a  knowledge  and  such  a  fact  is  possible 
only  if  my  mind  supplies  for  itself  the  necessary  condition 
of  such  a  succession,  and  that  condition  is  the  logical  cate- 
gory of  condition  and  consequence,  which  is  contained  in  the 
hypothetical  judgment,  if  A  is  then  B  is.  Only  as  the  sense 
impressions  are  brought  under  the  thought-law  or  form,  can 
I  know  such  a  thing  as  an  objective  succession  in  time,  in 
other  words  causal  connection;  for  causal  connection  is 
objective   succession   in   time.     The   knowledge   of  causal 


172  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

connection  is  not  derived  from  experience  as  empiricism 
teaches;  it  is  possible  only  if  there  is  brought  to  experience, 
a  thought  principle  by  means  of  which  experience  is  brought 
into  this  form  of  connection. 

Thus  does  Kant  explain  the  structure  of  our  knowledge. 
The  limitation  of  our  knowledge  is  a  corallary  from  the 
doctrine  of  its  nature.  Experience  being  a  necessary  con- 
dition of  knowledge,  sense  function  being  one  of  its  factors, 
the  limitation  of  knowledge  to  experience  follows  inevitably. 
Experience  is  the  field  of  possible  knowledge;  where  that 
field  terminates  there  our  knowledge  ceases.  On  this  point 
of  the  extent  of  knowledge,  Kant  is  at  one  with  the  empiri- 
cists and  against  the  rationalists,  who  maintained  that  our 
knowledge  transcends  the  bounds  of  possible  experience. 
True  it  is  that  our  thoughts  transcend  these  limits  of  ex- 
perience; but  thought  without  matter  supplied  by  sense,  gives 
no  knowledge.  We  can,  indeed,  form  conceptions  of  objects 
which  cannot  be  given  in  experience,  such  are  things  in 
themselves;  we  can  conceive  of  beings  who  do  not  exist 
under  the  conditions  of  experience,  who  do  not  know  the 
forms  of  space,  time,  and  the  categories  which  are  regulative 
for  our  knowledge.  Such  are  noumenal  beings,  God,  our 
moral  selves,  and  their  free  action.  Moreover,  in  the  in- 
terests of  our  moral  life,  which  is  the  supreme  reality,  our 
reason  postulates  real  existences  which  answer  to  these  ideal 
concepts;  but  it  remains  true  that  we  do  not  possess  knowl- 
edge of  the  realities,  we  necessarily  conceive  and  postulate; 
for  they  cannot  be  given  as  objects  of  possible  experience, 
they  cannot  be  determined,  or  defined  by  means  of  the 
categories,  the  function  of  which  is  limited  to  experience 
Theoretically  taken  the  ideal  of  God,  of  absolute  being,  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  173 

unconditioned  first  cause,  etc.,  have  only  regulative  value: 
they  are  not  constitutive  of  knowledge.  By  means  of  these 
ideals  we  can  give  systematic  completeness  to  our  knowledge 
of  the  world  of  experience;  but  to  take  these  ideas  as  exist- 
ences is  fallacious.  There  is  no  theoretic  need  of  postulating 
their  objective  reaUty;  and  there  is  no  way  in  which  it  is 
possible  to  demonstrate  their  objective  existence. 

Now  Kant  maintains  that,  to  admit  things  in  themselves, 
while  we  confess  that  we  do  not  have  knowledge  of  their 
nature,  is  no  contradiction;  nor  is  the  conception  of  such 
objects  as  these  ideal  beings,  a  useless  excise  of  our  reason, 
an  idle  fancy.  The  recognition  of  things  in  themselves  is 
absolutely  essential  to  the  explanation  of  knowledge.  They 
supply  the  matter  of  sensation,  without  which  no  knowl- 
edge is  possible.  Moreover,  it  is  important  that  we  recog- 
nize reality  which  is  not  subject  to  the  conditions  of  our 
knowledge;  it  is  important  to  remind  ourselves  that  our 
human  modes  of  cognition  may  not  be  the  only  form  of 
knowledge;  and  most  important  of  all  is  the  fact  that  since 
the  interest  of  conduct  or  morahty  is  the  supreme  interest, 
it  is  imperatively  necessary  to  postulate  reality  which  tran- 
scends experience,  and  therefore  the  limits  of  our  knowledge. 
Now,  were  it  not  possible  or  legitimate  to  think  such  objects 
as  God,  freedom,  immortality,  our  rational  nature  would 
indeed  be  at  war  with  itself;  for  our  reason  as  practical 
postulates  these  objects;  and  if  we  could  not  think  them 
without  contradiction,  belief  in  them  would  be  irrational, 
and  absolute  doubt  be  the  inevitable  result.  But  now,  our 
moral  faith  is  justified,  our  right  to  believe  cannot  be  denied. 
In  Kant's  esteem,  it  was  a  great  merit,  a  great  achievement 
of  his  doctrine,  that  while  it  establishes  the  exact  bounds  of 


174  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

our  knowledge,  at  the  same  time  it  saves  our  faith.  Kant 
declared  that  he  had  taken  away  knowledge  that  he  might 
save  faith,  by  which  he  meant  he  had  destroyed  a  spurious 
claim  to  Knowledge  beyond  the  limits  of  possible  experience. 
It  was  the  dogmatic  assertion  of  this  knowledge  which  had 
provoked  scepticism;  for  the  sceptic  challenged  this  claim; 
and  had  only  to  instance  the  conflicting  doctrines  of  the 
rationalists,  the  disputes  among  themselves,  to  feel  justified 
in  his  denial  of  this  knowledge.  But  the  sceptic  was  no  less 
dogmatic  in  his  denial  of  the  possibility  of  this  trans-experi- 
ence-knowledge, than  was  the  rationalist  in  his  assertion 
of  it.  Kant  claimed  to  have  put  to  silence  both  the  sceptic 
and  the  dogmatist;  and  in  this  way  he  had  saved  moral 
faith.  It  seemed  to  Kant  that  he  had  clearly  separated  the 
two  spheres,  that  of  knowledge  and  that  of  faith,  so  that 
henceforth  one  could  render  to  science  the  things  that  be- 
long to  science  and  to  faith  the  things  that  belong  to  faith. 
There  can  be  no  quarrel  between  science  and  faith;  for 
science  does  not  deny  the  reality  of  what  it  does  not  know 
i  and  faith  does  not  ask  that  her  realities  shall  be  scientifically 
known;  she  asks  only  the  right  to  believe;  and  science  cannot 
deny  this  right. 

I  have  now  set  forth  in  its  main  lines  the  epistemology  of 
Kant.  It  would  be  the  more  natural  order  to  pass  to  the 
epistemology  of  Royce,  who  I  have  said  is  the  best  repre- 
sentative of  the  other  type  of  rationalistic  epistemology. 
But  it  will  be  more  advantageous,  first  to  present  the 
epistemology  of  empiricism;  and  from  the  empirical 
point  of  view  to  suggest  a  criticism  of  Kant's  doctrine  of 
Knowledge. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  175 

III.  THE  EMPIRICAL  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 
Accordingly  I  will  set  forth  an  empirical  theory  of  knowl- 
edge which  in  the  main  follows  the  constructive  lines  of 
Hume's  philosophy  as  that  is  presented  in  the  Treatise  on 
Human  Nature  and  in  the  Enquiry  concerning  Human 
Understanding .  The  fundamental  proposition  of  empiri- 
cism had  been  laid  down  by  Locke.  All  our  knowledge  is 
derived  from  experience.  Hume,  following  the  main  lines 
of  Locke's  epistemology,  sets  out  with  an  analysis  of  experi- 
ence, with  a  view  to  finding  the  sources,  the  elementary  con- 
stituents, the  first  things  in  the  way  of  knowledge.  It  was 
clear  to  Hume's  mind  that  if  it  is  to  be  maintained  that  all 
knowledge  is  from  experience,  it  is  first  of  all  necessary 
accurately  to  understand  what  experience  is,  what  are  its 
constituent  elements,  its  orginial  content.  The  problem  is 
at  the  outset  a  psychogenetic  one;  it  relates  to  the  origin  of 
the  earliest  state  of  our  knowledge.  How  does  knowledge  k 
begin  ?  is  a  question  which  must  precede  the  question,  How 
is  our  knowledge  constituted  ?  An  examination  of  experi- 
ence is  therefore  the  first  step  in  the  solution  of  the  problem 
of  knowledge. 

In  this  analysis  Hume  finds  that  the  ultimate  source,  the 
elementary  constituents  of  knowledge  are  impressions  of 
sense;  these  impressions  and  not  things  or  qualities,  produc- 
ing these  impressions,  are  the  beginning  of  our  knowledge, 
the  content  of  original  experience.  Locke  had  said  all 
knowledge  begins  in  sensation;  but  with  Locke  sensation 
contained  two  things,  sensation  matter,  color,  pressure, 
light,  smell,  etc.,  and  something  which  itself  is  not  a  sen- 
sation, but  a  material  thing  or  its  quality  producing  the 
sensation,  something  sensed  in  the  sensation,  something  ex- 


176  THE  PROBLEM  OF  Kl^OWLEDGE 

perienced  in  our  first  experience.  Hume  rejected  this  really 
trans-experience  thing,  and  made  impressions  the  sole  con- 
tent of  our  original  experience.  Whether  or  not  there  are 
such  beings  as  Locke's  material  substance,  or  Berkeley's 
world  spirit,  to  which  our  sensations  are  to  be  referred,  Hume 
neither  affirmed  nor  denied.  This  further  question  as  to 
the  ultimate  source  of  our  experience,  Hume  maintains,  ad- 
mits of  no  positive  answer.  For  the  explanation  of  our 
knowledge,  we  do  not  need  to  concern  ourselves  with  such 
speculative  problems.  Our  experience  being  what  it  is,  we 
should  add  nothing  to  its  meaning,  did  we  in  some  way 
know  how  we  came  to  have  such  experience.  Impressions 
are  consequently  all  we  have  for  the  stuff  out  of  which  our 
knowledge  is  made. 

In  addition  to  these  sensation  contents  of  experience,  we 
have  as  the  second  class  of  constituents  of  knowledge, 
ideas.  YThese  are  not  absolutely  first  things,  they  are  not 
data  of  experience,  but  derivative  or  secondary  in  the  order 
of  genesis.  In  their  simplest  form,  ideas  are  copies  of  im- 
pressions, they  are  mental  things  which  stand  for  and  repre- 
sent what  has  been  or  can  be,  impressions  of  sense,  or  feeling 
of  some  sort.  Viewed  in  their  relation  to  experience  con- 
tent, ideas  are  either  copies  or  representatives  of  what  has 
been  experience  content,  in  which  case  they  are  memories 
or  they  may  image  or  represent  what  is  possible  experience, 
in  which  case  they  are  imagination  ideas.  In  respect  to 
their  structure,  ideas  are  simple  or  complex.  Simple  ideas 
are  copies  or  representatives  of  the  simplest  content  of 
experience.  Complex  ideas  are  formed  by  combination 
with  more  or  less  modification  of  simple  ideas.  They  can 
image   or   represent    an    indefinite    number   of    individual 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  177 

objects  or  masses  of  experience  content,  of  indefinite  ex- 
tent and  complexity.  Again,  in  respect  to  their  function, 
ideas  are  individual  or  general.  An  idea  is  individual  if  it 
represents  what  we  call  a  single  thing,  or  a  unit  of  some  sort  J 
An  idea  is  general  if  it  represents  an  infinite  number  of 
individual  things. 

One  more  distinction  between  ideas  must  be  noted,  that 
of  concrete  and  abstract.  A  concrete  idea  is  one  which 
represents  an  experience  content,  which  we  call  a  thing  or 
object,  and  think  of  as  so  existing.  An  abstract  idea 
represents  any  one  or  more  qualities,  when  considered  apart 
from  the  thing  itself. 

So  much  for  the  meaning  and  the  various  kinds  of  ideas. 
We  will  next  follow  the  empiricist's  explanation  of  the  func- 
tion of  ideas,  the  role  they  play  in  our  knowledge.  Ideas 
being  copies  or  representatives  of  experience,  actual  or  pos- 
sible, they  can  be  substituted  for  experience,  they  can  func- 
tion in  the  place  of  experience,  for  what  is  past,  for  what 
may  be  expected,  for  the  experience  of  an  individual  or 
for  common  experience.  Ideas  are  thus  instruments  for 
enlarging  and  making  practically  serviceable  our  knowledge. 
Ideas  are  thus  indirectly  cognitive;  we  could  not  by  means 
of  them  know  what  has  not  been  or  could  not  be  matter  of 
experience;  they  never  carry  us  beyond  experience,  but  with- 
in that  field  they  are  of  immense  service,  of  indispensable 
mportance;  but  for  them  knowledge  would  be  only  of  the 
flying  moment,  just  a  this,  now,  a  meaningless  fragment. 
The  whole  organization  and  extension  of  knowledge  is  the 
work  of  ideas.  To  understand,  however,  this  function  of 
ideas,  it  is  necessary  to  note  a  third  class  of  elementary  con- 
stituents, or  constructive  principles  of  experience.     These 


178  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

are  relations  and  connections  of  various  sorts  between  the 
parts  of  our  experience.  Our  experience  does  not  consist  of 
isolated  or  disconnected  things,  but  of  things  connected 
with  other  things;  we  experience  not  merely  impressions 
or  things,  but  relations  between  them.  Relation  is  not 
something  that  is  brought  into  experience  ab  extra;  it  is  an 
intrinsic  thing,  a  part  of  experience.  Relations  are  experi- 
enced with  the  things  related.  They  are  as  truly  a  part  of 
the  given — ^the  content  of  experience — as  are  the  things 
between  which  they  exist.  A  and  B,  A  after  B,  A  greater 
than  B,  like  or  unHke  B,  are  the  experienced  facts,  the 
empirical  reality.  Relations  therefore  are  original  content 
of  experience  no  less  than  the  related  things.  So  we 
have  also  ideas  of  relations  apart  from  the  objects  which 
are  connected  by  them;  then  we  have  ideas  of  likeness, 
succession,  continuity,  etc.  Not  all  these  connections  in 
Experience  are  original.  Some  are  of  later  origin  and  are 
due  to  those  processes  by  which  complex  and  abstract  Pff 
ideas  are  framed;  such  for  instance  is  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect,  the  explanation  of  which  is  Hume's  most 
important  contribution  to  epistemology.  Now,  inasmuch 
as  our  ideas  cover  these  relational  parts  of  our  experience, 
it  can  readily  be  seen  how  important  is  their  role  in  the 
building  up  and  organization  of  our  knowledge.  We 
can  comprehend  the  power  of  our  ideas  in  enlarging  the 
range  of  knowledge  and  practical  activity,  the  enormous 
economy  they  enable  us  to  practice,  since  they  are  to  a 
large  extent  abstract  and  have  an  essentially  symbolic 
function,  like  numbers,  signs,  etc.  This  function  of  ideas 
as  substitutes  for  experience,  and  as  economical  devices  is 
analogous  to  the  use  of  cheques  in  business  transactions. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  179 

A  cheque  is  a  substitute  for  so  much  actual  cash;  but  it  is 
not  necessary  to  cash  a  cheque  in  order  to  use  it;  it  is  only 
necessary  that  it  should  be  cashable.  So  with  an  idea, 
its  cash  value  in  experience,  we  do  not  need  to  obtain,  it 
can  be  used  for  the  experience,  and  with  an  enormous  gain 
in  efficiency  and  saving  in  time.  As  in  business,  so  in  our 
knowledge,  most  of  the  transactions  are  by  cheques  and  by 
credit  statements.  But  the  empiricist  reminds  us,  that 
it  is  just  as  important  to  keep  in  mind  that  every  idea  should 
be  reducible  to  concrete  experience  as  that  every  cheque 
should  be  good  for  its  face  value  in  cash. 

But,  fully  to  explain  the  organization  of  experience  or 
empirical  knowledge,  it  is  necessary  to  take  note  of  two 
principles  which  operate  to  give  to  experience  its  persistent 
character,  its  solidity  and  stubbornness,  against  tendencies  ot 
change,  its  consistent  character.  These  principles  are  habit 
and  association.  One  of  the  most  conspicuous  features  of  ex- 
perience is  its  routine  character,  its  tendency  to  persist  in 
whatever  state  it  occurs,  in  whatever  direction  it  takes; 
custom  is  the  name  Hume  gives  to  this  character  of  our 
experience.  The  law  of  habit  is,  the  same  experience  tends 
to  recur  in  the  same  context,  and  this  tendency  is  strength- 
ened by  repetition.  This  holds  true  not  only  of  the  sub- 
stantive part  of  experience  but  of  the  relational  parts  also. 
Not  only  does  the  content  A  tend  to  recur,  but  if  A  has  been 
followed  by  B  in  prior  experiences,  or  coexisted  with  B, 
this  relational  experience  tends  to  recur,  and  this  relation 
of  conjunction  in  experience  is  affected  by  repetition  in  like 
manner  as  are  other  parts  of  experience. 

Association  is  the  second  principle  under  which  experi- 
ence acquires  its  definite,  coherent,  and  stable  structure. 


180  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

Association  itself  is  based  upon  the  more  extensive  law  of 
habit.  The  law  of  association  is,  if  two  or  more  things 
Lave  formed  parts  of  the  same  total  experience,  the  recurrence 
of  any  one  of  them  in  a  subsequent  experience  tends  to  recall 
the  others.  This  associative  connection  is  strengthened  by- 
repetition  and  habit:  it  may  be  strong  and  persistent  without 
having  become  habitual;  recency,  intensity,  and  other  cir- 
cumstances of  original  experience,  strengthen  the  associative 
connection.  This  principle  of  association  is  the  basis  of 
memory  and  expectation.  It  is  also  the  principle  of  dis- 
cursive inference  or  reasoning  upon  matters  of  fact. 

Association  based  upon  habit  is  the  main  source  and  ex 
planation  of  our  beliefs.  Belief  is  the  manner  in  which 
ideas  are  present  to,  and  are  entertained  by  our  minds. 
To  have  an  idea  of  something  and  to  believe  this  same  thing 
differ  only  in  the  manner  in  which  the  same  object  is  pres- 
ent in  experience.  Belief  adds  nothing  to  the  meaning 
or  content  of  the  idea;  my  belief  that  I  have  a  hundred 
dollars  in  my  pocket  adds  nothing  to  the  content  of  my  idea 
of  my  having  this  sum  of  money  there.  But  in  the  case  of 
my  belief  I  cherish  this  idea  in  a  different  way;  the  idea  is 
present  in  a  different  manner,  and  has  for  its  associates 
quite  different  feelings  and  dispositional  tendencies.  This 
Hvely,  vivid,  warm,  and  firm  manner  in  which  certain  ideas 
exist,  is  the  essence  of  belief;  and  the  differential  of  belief 
are  the  accessories  and  associated  experience  states.  It  is 
consequently  clear  that  association  strengthened  by  habit, 
is  the  foundation  of  belief :  for  in  belief  the  mind  is  carried 
from  some  present  fact  to  some  other  fact  that  is  present 
in  an  idea;  and  that  which  carries  the  mind  to  the  other 
fact  is  association.     Now  whenever  a  firm  association  is  es- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  181 

tablished  between  two  things,  one  of  which  is  a  present  fact 
of  experience,  which  we  always  entertain  with  the  sense  of 
reahty,  we  entertain  the  associated  thing  (present  as  idea) 
with  the  same  feeUng  of  reahty;  and  that  as  we  have  seen 
is  the  essence  of  behef.     Now  our  beUefs  are  a  large  part 
of  our  experience;  they  constitute  the  cognitive  significance 
of  experience.     In  varpng  degrees  of  strength,  ranging  from 
sHght  probability  to  the  most  intense  and  unshaken  con- 
victions, our  beliefs  are  the  warp  and  woof  of  our  knowl- 
edge, and  construct  for  us  the  real  world.     Our  real  world 
is  coextensive  with  our  experience;  experience  which  has 
been,  which  is  now,  and  that  which  we  expect.    The  content 
of  our  knowledge  of  the  real  world  are  our  beliefs.     Hence, 
to  explain  our  knowledge,  our  science  of  matters  of  fact,  is  to 
explain  our  beliefs.     When  we  have  explained  our  behef s 
we  have  reached  the  hmits  of  our  knowledge;  we  have  solved 
that  problem  so  far  as  the  solution  is  in  our  power.     Our 
knowledge  is  wholly  experiential,  its  source  is  experience, 
the  knowing  itself  is  a  process  of  experience;  the  cognitive 
process  essentially  consists  in  the  Unking  of  one  portion  of 
experience  to  another.     In  this  process,  ideas  play  the  role 
of  intermediaries;  and  inasmuch  as  ideas  function  in  the 
place  of  active  experience,  the  cognitive  connections  are  be- 
tween ideas,  as  well  as  between  experience  portions.     Now 
since  an  idea  is  only  a  substitute  for  experience,  experience 
content  is  the  only  object  an  idea  can  have;  and  consequently 
the  truth  of  an  idea  is  its  agreement  with  experience,  and 
not  with  an  object  that  is  independent  of  experience,  a  trans- 
experience    object    such    as    realism    assumes.     Just  here 
Locke  fell  into  a  fatal  embarrassment  in  his  conception  of 
knowledge.     His  definition  of  knowledge  made  it  consist  in 


182  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

the  perception  of  the  agreement  between  two  ideas.  This 
definition  was  inconsistent  with  other  parts  of  his  doctrine, 
particularly  his  doctrine  of  material  substance,  and  of  pri- 
mary qualities  of  material  objects.  Locke  was  forced  to 
modify  his  definition  so  as  to  cover  the  simple  ideas  of  sen- 
sation; for  as  he  maintained,  the  truth  of  these  ideas  con- 
sists in  their  agreement  with  material  reality,  i.e.,  with 
something  which  is  not  an  idea.  Now,  had  Locke  been 
consistent  with  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  his  empiricism, 
he  would  not  have  been  entangled  in  this  difficulty.  But 
Locke  unfortunately  retained  a  part  of  the  realistic  ration- 
alism of  Descartes.  And  that  prevented  his  seeing  that  the 
cognitive  relation  is  not  between  an  idea  and  a  reality  which 
is  different  from  the  idea  and  alien  to  it,  but  between  two 
experiences,  or  between  an  idea  and  an  experience,  or  be- 
tween two  ideas,  since  ideas  are  the  equivalent  of  experience. 

I  have  thus  in  as  brief  a  compass  as  seemed  possible, 
presented  the  epistemology  of  empiricism.  It  will,  I  trust, 
aid  the  student  in  a  better  comprehension  of  both  this 
doctrine  and  the  idealistic  epistemology  of  Kant,  if  I  bring 
the  two  doctrines  into  comparison.  This  comparison  I  can 
best  make  by  means  of  an  imaginary  dialogue  between 
Hume  and  Kant.  I  will  suppose  that  Hume  had  lived  to 
read  the  Critique  oj  Pure  Reason^  and  had  fallen  in  with 
Kant  and  the  following  discussion  occurred  between  them. 

Hume:  I  have  read  with  the  greatest  interest  and  appre- 
ciation your  truly  immortal  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  and  I 
am  naturally  gratified  to  find  that  between  your  doctrine 
and  mine,  there  does  not  appear  to  be  a  difference  of  any 
importance.  You  no  less  clearly  and  emphatically  than  I, 
teach  that  our  knowledge  is  limited  to  experience.     You  no 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  183 

less  emphatically  than  I  reject  the  claim  to  a  knowledge  of 
such  trans-experience  realities  as  material  substances,  the 
soul  as  a  spiritual  substance,  God  as  an  infinite,  uncon- 
ditioned being. 

Kant:  I  fear  you  have  not  carefully  read  my  book,  or 
you  would  have  seen  that  the  difference  between  our  doc- 
trines is  a  profound  one.  Your  doctrine  takes  away  all 
true  knowledge  w^ithin  the  field  of  experience,  while  my 
doctrine  establishes  knowledge.  I  not  only  establish  knowl- 
edge but  I  also  delimit  the  field  of  knowledge;  while  you 
establish  no  knowledge  and  you  leave  the  boundaries  hazy 
and  confused.  Your  doctrine  denies  that  there  are  principles 
of  thought,  which  not  being  derived  from  experience  are  in- 
dependent of  experience  for  their  validity.  Now  unless 
there  are  such  a  yriori  functions  as  I  have  discovered,  no 
such  thing  as  true  knowledge  is  possible,  In  your  doc- 
trine there  are  only  impressions  of  sense,  their  paler  copies, 
ideas,  merely  contingent  connection  between  these  im- 
pressions and  ideas;  these  connections  made  more  or  less  firm 
by  habit  or  blind  custom.  These  are  the  only  constructive 
principles  your  theory  assumes.  Now  with  such  principles 
only  it  is  impossible  to  construct  or  explain  our  knowledge. 

I  have  shown  that  only  principles  and  judgments  that 
are  universal  and  necessary,  can  be  the  foundation  of  scienti- 
fic knowledge.  Now  you  teach  that  we  have  no  principles 
or  judgments  of  this  character,  that  no  connections  be- 
tween things  are  necessary;  you  thereby  abandon  the  claim 
to  scientific  knowledge.  Take  that  connection  which  you 
admit  is  the  foundation  of  all  scientific  knowledge,  nay  of 
all  reasoning  on  matters  of  fact,  cause  and  effect.  This 
you  claim  to  have  shown  is  not  a  law  of  thought,  not  a  truth 


184  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

of  reason,  but  a  customary  conjunction  of  experience;  the 
only  necessity  that  attaches  to  it  being  the  bhnd  propension 
of  our  minds  to  generaUze  from  experience,  and  to  expect 
that  like  antecedents  will  be  followed  by  like  consequents. 
Your  doctrine  of  causation  takes  away  the  corner  stone  of  sci- 
ence, nay  of  all  knowledge.    To  sum  up  on  this  point.  The  dif- 
ference between  us  is  this,  I  have  saved  knowledge  from  pos- 
sible scepticism,  you  have  involved  all  knowledge  in  doubt.\ 
Hume:  E  you  have  indeed  demonstrated  the  existence 
of  such  non-empirical  principles,   and  have  also  demon- 
strated the  manner  of  their  operation  in  the  making  of  our 
knowledge,  I  grant  you  have  established  universal  and  neces- 
sary truths  about  matters  of  fact;  But  have  you  in  fact 
achieved  this  momentous  result.?     There  are  three  con- 
ceivable ways  in  which  the  existence  of  such  a  'priori  con- 
structive principles  in  our  knowledge  can  be  proved.     (1) 
Either  by   direct   inspection   we   must   find   them   in  our 
minds  at  work  in  the  making  of  knowledge,  or  (2)  they  must 
be  self  evident  truths,  or  (3)  the  supposition  of  them  must 
be  the  only  possible  explanation  of  our  experience.     Now 
I  do  not  know  how  it  may  be  with  you,  but  as  for  myself, 
looking  never  so  carefully  and  critically  into  my  own  mind  to 
see  how  it  works,  I  do  not  discover  there  such  principles  or 
functions.     In  my  experience  I  can  find  no  judgments  that 
are  universal.     I  do  find  various  connections  between  things 
or  parts  of  experience,  but  that  they  are  universal  or  neces- 
sary is  no  datum  of  my  experience.     And  I  suspect  the  case 
is  not  otherwise  with  your  own  experience.     I  think  you 
will  not  undertake  to  maintain  that  the  existence  of  these 
principles  is  a  self-evident  truth;  You  have  learned  too  well 
the  lesson   of   dogmatism  for  that.     There   remains  only 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  185 

the  third  way  in  which  you  can  establish  your  proposition. 
Let  us  see  if  this  way  is  feasible.  The  alleged  fact,  the 
explanation  of  which  is  possible  only  if  we  suppose  there  a 
priori  principles,  is  the  science  of  nature.  You  assume 
that  science  consists  of  judgments  or  truths  which  are 
universal  and  necessary.  Now  it  is  that  assumption  which 
I  challenge.  Do  we  possess  such  truths  ?  Does  our  science 
consist  of  them  ?  If  we  do  possess  this  kind  of  knowledge, 
I  grant  that  this  fact  can  be  explained  only  by  the  supposi- 
tion of  such  a  priori  functions  as  you  maintain.  This 
fact  must  be  established  and  this  is  what  you  have  not  done. 
My  contention  is  that  scientific  propositions  are  neither 
necessary  nor  universal;  these  propositions  assert  what  has 
been  found  true  in  past  experience  and  will  hold  true  for  ex- 
perience in  the  future.  Scientific  propositions  express  beliefs 
which  because  they  have  been  uncontradicted  by  experience, 
we  hold  with  an  assurance  which  both  for  theoretical  and 
practical  purposes,  is  as  good  as  certainty.  We  cannot 
demonstrate  the  truth  of  these  beliefs;  but  so  long  as  experi- 
ence supports  them,  we  have  no  practical  interest  which 
leads  us  to  question  their  validity,  and  a  merely  theoretic 
doubt  is  gratuitous.  That  which  we  have  no  motive  for 
doubting  while  all  our  interests  are  promoted  by  believing 
it,  is  for  all  our  human  purposes,  as  good  as  demonstrated 
certainty.  But,  granting  we  have  the  kind  of  knowledge 
you  assume,  is  the  explanation  you  give  of  it  really  so  in- 
telligible and  undeniable  as  you  appear  to  think.?  Is  it 
intelligible  how  such  things  as  the  categories  of  thought, 
having  in  their  nature  no  essential  relation  to  the  matter 
of  sense  experience,  can  unite  with  this  matter  in  the  pro- 
duction of  knowledge  ?  '  How  pray  do  these  thought  forms 


186  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

manage  to  act  upon  matter  which  comes  from  a  source 
which  is  alien  to  them  ?  For  instance,  how  does  the  space 
principle,  itself  purely  formal,  and  indifferent  to  this  or  that 
particular  manifold  of  sensation,  act  upon  this  matter  so  as 
to  give  a  definite  spatial  extent  or  create  an  individual 
object,  having  definite  form  and  size?  What  determines 
where  the  spatial  synthesis  begins,  where  it  terminates  in 
any  particular  case  ?  Does  the  sensation  matter  come  pro- 
vided with  cues  to  indicate  how  the  spatial  arrangement  is 
to  proceed  ?  Now,  sensations,  qua  sensations,  have  not  a 
spatial  character  already,  or  a  predetermination  to  assume  a 
spatial  form,  how  then  does  your  theory  explain  the  fact  that 
i  they  come  into  this,  that,  and  the  other  spatial  form  ?  Again, 
take  an  individual  object,  how  let  me  ask  does  your  category 
of  substance,  which  as  you  say  is  the  abstract  idea  or  logical 
priciple  of  subject  in  relation  to  possible  predicates,  man- 
age to  grasp  and  unify  a  mere  manifold  of  different  and  in 
themselves  unrelated  sensations?  What  is  it  which  deter- 
mines the  number  or  the  kind  of  sensations  or  particulars 
of  sense  this  category  is  to  grasp  and  to  unify  at  any  given 
time?  The  empty  formal  category  of  substance  tells  us 
nothing,  explains  nothing  in  this  formation  of  individual, 
concrete  objects.  Here  is  a  rose,  does  your  category  of 
substance  explain  why  and  how  just  these  particular  sensa- 
tions, different  in  kind,  and  degree,  and  definite  as  to  num- 
ber, are  united  or  synthesized  to  form  this  object?  What 
after  all  guides  the  category,  itself  formal  and  indifferent  to 
sense  matter,  in  its  work  of  uniting  just  these  particulars 
of  sense  in  just  this  manner?  Finally,  does  your  theory 
explain  the  fact  of  causal  connection  ?  You  claim  to  have 
established    the    universality    of    this    connection   between 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  187 

phenomena.  How  have  you  done  it  ?  You  bring  in  the 
logical  principle  of  the  hypothetical  judgment.  If  A,  then 
B,  and  you  assert  that  by  applying  this  principle  to  the 
empirical  succession  of  events,  that  succession  is  made 
objective,  is  therefore  valid  for  all  experience,  because  it  is 
brought  under  principle  of  a  judgment  which  is  universal. 
Now  what  I  utterly  fail  to  see  is,  that  you  have  made  out  any 
connection  whatever  between  the  formal  principle  of  the 
hypothetical  judgment  and  the  empirical  fact  of  succession 
of  the  one  event  upon  the  other.  Do  you  maintain  that  if 
two  things  are  cause  and  effect,  the  connection  between  them 
must  be  of  the  same  nature  as  the  connection  between  the 
antecedent  and  the  consequent  in  the  hypothetical  judgment  ? 
If  so  I  reply,  that  is  a  pure  assumption,  it  begs  the  whole 
question.  Do  you  reply  that  unless  these  phenomena  are 
connected  in  this  way,  causal  connection  cannot  be  universal. 
My  answer  is,  causal  connection  is  not  known  to  be  univer- 
sal; it  is  believed  to  be  so  on  the  strength  of  uniform  experi- 
ence. But  my  point  now  is,  assuming  that  we  do  certainly 
know  that  causal  connection  is  universal,  your  theory  does 
not  explain  this  knowledge. 

This  imaginary  dialogue  has  served  its  purpose  if  it  has 
brought  into  clearer  light  the  main  difference  between  the 
two  older  and  most  opposed  theories  of  knowledge.  We 
must  now  complete  our  examination  of  the  rationalistic 
theories  of  knowledge.  This  we  will  do  by  a  brief  examina- 
tion of  the  epistemology  of  Royce.  - 

IV.    THE    EPISTEMOLOGY   OF  ROYCE 

Perhaps  the  most  noteworthy  feature  of  this  epistemology 
is  Professor  Royce's  conception  of  the  nature  and  function  of 


188  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

thought  and  the  relation  of  thought  to  reality.  The  essen- 
tial problem  of  knowledge  Royce  finds  in  the  meaning  of 
an  idea,  and  the  relation  between  an  idea  and  its  object. 
How  can  an  idea  have  an  object?  is  the  formulation  in 
simple  terms  of  the  Kantian  question,  How  is  knowledge 
possible  ?  The  epistemology  of  Royce  diverges  from  Kant's 
doctrine  chiefly  at  these  two  points,  (1)  the  cognitive  pro- 
cess, (2)  the  object  in  knowledge.  In  other  words,  the 
essential  points  are,  the  knower  and  the  knower's  relation 
to  the  object.     We  take  these  points  in  order. 

In  Kant's  epistemology  the  knower  is  our  human  and 
consequently  finite  mind;  and  the  knowing  process  being 
that  of  a  finite  mind,  is  to  some  extent  conditioned  by  reality 
that  it  does  not  make.     In  the  epistemology  of  Royce,  the 
knower  is  not  a  finite  mind  only,  but  the  finite  mind  viewed 
as  a  partial  function  within  an  absolute  mind.     The  know- 
ing process  is  interpreted  and  valued  from  the  view  point 
of  this  Absolute,   whose  knowledge  is  not  fundamentally 
different  from  our  human  knowledge,  but  rather  the  com- 
plete attainment  of  that  goal  toward  which  our  finite  know- 
ing strives,  but  of  which  it  falls  short  in  its  endeavors.     The 
object  of  this  all-knower's  thought  is  the  complete  and 
determinate  expression  of  just  that  idea  which,  in  every  act  of 
our  knowledge,  is  seeking  this  embodiment  and  expression. 
This   absolute   mind    knows   just   what   our  minds  would 
know,  could  they  adequately  know.     This  differenc  in  view 
point  in  the  conceptions  of  the  knower  has  an  important 
bearing  upon  the  other  features  in  which  the  two  theories 
differ.     One  highly  important  consequence  of  this  difference 
in  view  points   concerns  the  limitation  of  our  human  knowl- 
edge.    Both  Kant  and   Royce  admit  our  ignorance;   but 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  189 

the  locus  of  this  ignorance  is  different  in  these  doctrines. 
In  Kant's  epistemology,  the  terra  incognita  is  the  Absolute, 
the  All  Knower,  God.  In  the  view  of  Royce,  our  most 
profound  ignorance  relates  to  the  finite,  the  realm  of  experi- 
ence. The  only  reality  we  are  sure  of  is  God,  the  All  Knower. 
We  cannot  miss  this  fact  in  all  our  misdirections  and  errors 
of  thought;  we  cannot  deny  the  existence  of  the  One,  All 
Knowing,  All  possessing  Being  if  we  would  do  so.  There 
is  no  possibility  of  losing,  there  is  no  escape  from  this  All 
Knower;  for  there  is  absolutely  nothing  which  is  not  known ;U 
every  fact  in  virtue  of  its  meaning  as  fact,  is  a  known  fact. 
Every  truth,  every  aim  to  win  truth,  is  known,  every  failure 
to  win  truth,  every  error  is  also  known.  The  very  possi- 
bility of  truth  or  error  is  without  meaning  unless  the  Abso- 
lute knower  of  both  truth  and  error  exists.  To  assert  truth 
or  to  admit  the  fact  of  error,  is  to  appeal  to  this  standard 
mind,  this  judging  Thought.  We  may  formulate  more  in- 
cisively this  really  momentous  difference  between  the  two 
epistemologies  in  this  way.  In  Kant's  doctrine,  God  is  a 
theoretical  possibility,  his  existence  is  not  known  but  practi- 
cally postulated.  In  the  doctrine  of  Royce,  God's  existence 
is  a  theoretic  necessity,  an  inescapable  fact.  On  the  second 
point  we  have  selected  for  comparison  the  knowing  process 
and  its  object,  the  difference  is  very  wide.  As  we  have  seen, 
both  Kant  and  Royce  reject  epistemological  realism.  In 
both  doctrines,  the  knower  determines,  in  a  sense  creates  his 
object,  so  far  as  that  object  is  known.  But  the  meaning 
of  this  object  and  the  nature  of  the  process  through  which 
it  becomes  known  is  very  differently  conceived  by  Kant 
and  by  Royce.  In  Kant's  theory,  the  object-determing  or 
creating-f unction,  consists  of  so-called  categories  of  thought 


190  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

and  forms  of  sense,  space,  time,  which  work  somehow  upon 
matter,   sensations  supplied   by  a  thing  in  itseK— reahty. 
In  the  theory  of  Royce,  this  object-constituting  function  is 
something  which  is  both  an  idea,  a  thought  and  a  purpose; 
it  is  a  purposive  idea.     It  is  something  which  means  and 
intends  its  objectj  it  selects  and  chooses  that  object  as  the 
object  in  which  its  own  meaning  can  be  embodied,  its  pur- 
pose be  attained,  its  seeking  issue  in  finding.     For  the  object 
sought  cannot  have  anything  in  it  which  is  foreign  to  the 
idea  which  seeks  it.     There  is  no  residual  stuff,  thing  in 
itself  which  caunpt  be  object  of  this  idea,  nor  merely  given 
matter,  chaotic  manifold  of  sensation.     No,  the  object  is 
only  the  complete  determination  and  embodiment  of  thisj| 
idea's  meaning,  the  attainment  of  its  goal,  the  realization  of 
its  purpose.     It  is  clear  that  Royce  has  eliminated  the  entire 
machinery  of  Kant's  categories,  and  a  priori  synthetic  judg- 
ments, his  pure  intuitions  of    space  and  time,  matter  of 
sense    and    things    in  themselves.     Consequently,  he    has 
escaped  all  those  embarrassments  under  which  the  Kantian 
epistemology    labors,    and    the    objections  which  the  em- 
piricist has   always  successfully  urged  against  Kant's  doc- 
trine, do  not  touch  the  theory  of  Royce.     Criticism  of  his  doc- 
trine must  come  from  another  quarter,  and  must  attack  other 
points  if  it  is  to  find  anything  wanting  in  this  marvellously 
subtle  and  suggestive  doctrine.     The  presentation  of  it  I 
have   attempted    is    altogether   meager    and    fragmentary. 
No  one  can  rightly  judge  this  undertaking  of  Royce,  the 
greatest   since   Hegel,   who   has   not   gone   most   carefully 
through  The  World  and  the  Individual,  a  book  which  will 
make  a  landmark  in  philosophy. 

We  have  completed  our  discussion  of  two  types  of  episte- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  191 

mology,  rationalism  and  empiricism.  There  remains  the 
third  type,  the  epistemology  of  Pragmatism,  to  which  we 
now  pass. 

V.  THE  PRAGMATIC  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

The  pragmatist's  theory  of  knowledge  is  based  upon  a 
psychological  doctrine,  the  main  features  of  which  I  will 
first  set  forth.  The  first  characteristic  of  this  psychological 
basis  of  pragmatism  is  the  intimate  connection  which  it 
maintains,  holds  between  the  psychological  and  the  logical 
character  of  knowledge.  The  pragmatist  insists  that  the 
psychological,  the  genetic  view  of  knowledge  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  logical  and  epistemological  problems. 
If  we  would  understand  what  knowledge  is,  we  must  under- 
stand how  it  has  come  to  be,  we  must  follow  its  history; 
the  problem  of  origin  is  not  separable  from  the  problem  of 
nature  and  validity.  The  question,  how  do  we  think  ?  and 
the  question  how  ought  we  to  think.?  cannot  be  answered 
independently  from  each  other.  It  is  customary  to  distin- 
guish between  psychological  thinking  and  logical  thinking 
in  the  following  way:  Psychology  deals  with  thinking  in  an 
essentially  descriptive  way,  it  regards  it  as  it  does  all  psy- 
chical processes,  something  to  be  described  and  explained, 
as  all  mental  events  and  processes.  The  aim  of  logic,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  to  ascertain  how  thinking  ought  to  go  on, 
if  it  will  attain  its  aim,  which  is  truth  and  knowledge. 
Logic  defines  the  principles  and  laws  that  are  regulative 
for  valid  thinking.  Now  this  distinction  rests  on  the 
assumption  that  to  our  thinking,  if  it  is  to  possess  a  logical 
character  or  have  epistemological  significance,  something 
must  be  added  which  is  not  found  in  the  empirical  character 


192  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

of  our  thinking.  Now  the  pragmatist  challenges  this 
assumption  of  a  fundamental  difference  between  the  psycho- 
logical and  the  logical  character  of  thought  and  knowledge. 
He  denies  that  there  is  a  difference  of  any  significance 
between  the  is  and  the  ought  to  be.  His  contention  is  that 
the  only  way  of  knowing  how  men  ought  to  think,  is  to 
know  how  men  do  think,  when  they  are  successful  in  their 
thinking;  thinking  being  a  tentative  operation,  the  correct- 
ness of  which  is  determined  by  its  results.  Laws  of  thought 
are  statements  of  the  methods  of  de  jacto  successful  thinking. 
The  pragmatist  maintains  we  can  solve  the  problem  of 
knowledge  only  if  we  approach  it  from  the  side  of  psychol- 
ogy ;  for  it  is  first  of  all  a  psychological  problem.  Approached 
in  this  way,  the  problem  of  logic  and  epistemology,  which 
is  inseparable  from  logic,  becomes  intelligible.  Logical 
principles,  laws  of  thought,  etc.,  connote  simply  those  ways 
of  actual  thinking  which  have  been  found  expedient  in  the 
attainment  of  certain  ends.  These  ways  described  in 
general  terms,  stated  in  general  formulae,  are  regulative 
for  the  individual  thinker,  who  can  by  this  aid  draw  upon 
the  collective  experiments  of  the  best  representatives  of  the 
race  back  of  him.  They  enable  him  to  back  his  thinking 
with  the  best  prospect  of  success,  and  to  solve  various 
problems  which  he  would  not  have  been  otherwise  able  to 
solve.  This  successful  experience  of  generations  of  thinkers, 
summed  up  in  canons  of  Logic,  is  authority  for  the  individual 
thinker.  The  meaning  of  the  logical  ought,  like  its  analogue, 
the  ethical  ought,  is,  if  you  would  be  successful,  effective;  in 
your  thinking,  you  must  think  as  all  have  thought  who 
have  successfully  solved  their  problems.  Thus  does  the 
natural  history  hold  the  key  to  the  epistemological  problem. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  193 

The  second  psychological  fact  which  constitutes  the  basis 
of  pragmatic  epistemology  is,  TJiinking  and  knowing  da  not 
^xist  for  their  owa^sak^;  they  are  not  ends  in  themselves^ 
but  means  to  other  ends.  Man  originally  did  not  think 
for  the  sake  of  thinking  or  seek  knowledge  for  its  own  sake; 
the  imperious  need  of  living,  of  maintaining  his  own 
existence  in  a  world  more  hostile  than  friendly  forced  him 
to  think  and  to  make  his  thinking  an  instrument  in  effecting 
a  successful  adjustment  to  his  environment  or  in  controlling 
the  conditions  about  him,  so  as  to  secure  the  satisfaction  of 
his  wants.  Nor  has  man's  development,  his  civilization, 
his  science  changed  essentially  the  function  of  thought  and 
knowledge.  They  continue  to  play  essentially  the  same 
role  in  the  life  of  the  civilized  man  of  to-day  which  they 
played  in  the  infancy  of  the  race.  Life  is  the  end,  the  will 
to  live  the  supreme  force;  knowledge  is  the  instrument  this 
will  employs  to  attain  its  end.  It  is  true  an  individual 
may  limit  his  conscious  aim  to  the  attainment  of  knowledge; 
practical  uses  of  knowledge  or  ends  to  be  gained  through 
knowledge  may  lie  beyond  his  voluntarily  narrowed  horizon ; 
but  this  fact  does  not  militate  against  the  position  that  some 
end  which  is  not  itseK  knowledge,  determines  the  value  and 
ultimately  justifies  the  pursuit  of  every  particular  piece  of 
knowledge.  It  is  also  true  that  an  individual  may  dissociate 
by  habitual  practice,  thinking  and  knowing  from  the  ends 
which  give  them  meaning  and  value;  and  he  may  come  to 
think  they  are  valuable  in  themselves,  and  that  he  has  a 
purely  theoretic  or  intellectual  interest,  which  would  remain 
did  he  know  that  knowledge  was  never  and  could  never 
be  of  any  use  to  any  living  being.  Just  as  the  miser  dis- 
sociates money,  the  instrument  and  symbol  of  wealth,  from 


194  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

wealth  itself  and  thinks  it  valuable  for  its  own  sake.  But 
this  fact  does  not  affect  the  contention  that,  but  for  some  end 
which  is  other  than  knowledge,  knowledge  would  have  no 
meaning  or  justification  as  an  end.  The  position  remains 
unshaken  that  in  the  economy  of  life,  intellect  plays  the  role 
of  instrument  and  means,  and  this  as  truly  in  the  human 
kingdom  as  in  the  animal  world.  Circumstances  disguise 
this  fact  on  the  high  level  of  man's  life,  with  its  infinitely 
greater  complexity  and  vastly  wider  range  of  activities  and 
interests;  but  the  same  cardinal  trait  belongs  to  man's  life 
and  to  the  life  of  the  animal  below  him,  the  subordinate 
place  and  the  instrumental  function  of  intellect. 

The  third  fact  in  this  basis  of  pragmatism  is,  The  very 
intimate  and  indissoluble  connection  which  exists  between 
those  functions  which  it  is  still  customary  to  distinguish  as 
intellect,  feeling,  and  will.  The  psychologist  for  his  special 
purpose  finds  it  convenient  to  distinguish  these  aspects  or 
phases  of  our  mental  life;  it  is  psychologically  justifiable  to 
say,  I  know  something,  I  feel  somehow,  I  do  something; 
but  the  psychologist  knows  that  no  one  can  say,  I  know 
something,  without  feeling  somehow  and  doing  somewhat 
in  the  same  experience.  These  processes  never  go  on  inde- 
pendently of  each  other;  and  each  is  qualified  by  the  other's 
presence. 

Now  the  position  of  the  pragmatist  is,  that  in  cognitive 
experience  there  is  something  quite  other  than  coexistence 
of  these  three  functions,  or  even  than  a  certain  reciprocal 
influence  and  mutual  dependence  between  the  intellectual 
and  the  other  two  functions.  He  maintains  that  it  is  never 
the  case  that  we  first  know,  i.e.,  get  reality  into  our  posses- 
sion by  intellect,  then  feel  somehow  toward  it,  or  act  in 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  195 

some  manner  upon  what  is  already  known  reality,  or  adjust 
ourselves  in  some  way  to  this  reality.  On  the  contrary,  he 
maintains,  every  cognitive  idea  is  a  purpose,  an  intent,  a 
will.  Every  congnitive  grasp  of  its  object  is  an  act  of  will 
at  the  same  time,  involves  as  part  of  its  cognitive  function, 
a  mode  of  behavior  toward  the  object.  Likewise  our 
feeling  states,  our  emotional  attitudes  are  cognitive  ways  of 
dealing  with  reality,  are  organs  through  which  reality 
communicates  itself.  The  real  is  the  experienced;  nothing 
is  to  us  truly,  completely  real  until  it  is  experienced;  this 
experiencing  by  which  reality  is  made  ours  and  defined  is 
a  feeling  and  a  willing  no  less  than  a  thinking  experience. 
We  can  define  an  object  or  piece  of  reality,  only  as  we 
describe  the  feelings  it  excites,  the  actions  it  is  fitting  or 
necessary  to  perform  in  its  presence;  these  are  a  part  of  its 
meaning,  its  very  essence  or  whatness.  A  child's  way  of 
defining  its  unnamed  object  is  nearer  the  concrete  reality 
than  our  later  names.  With  us  at  a  later  stage  of  knowledge 
after  we  have  learned  to  abstract  qualities  and  relations, 
and  to  substitute  s^mibols  for  concrete  reality,  a  name  does 
service  in  place  of  the  thing  named;  and  the  name  need  not, 
rarely  does  connote  more  than  one  or  two  salient,  interesting 
and  for  our  purpose  important  items  in  the  thing's  reality. 
The  child,  innocent  of  these  artifices,  defines  his  object  in 
purely  experiential  terms.  It  burns,  it  is  sweet,  hot,  hard, 
it  hurts,  it  is  good,  etc.,  expressions  which  describe  the  child's 
experiences  of  things,  the  way  in  which  it  is  affected  by 
them,  their  values  for  his  interests  and  purposes.  His 
real  objects  are  things  which  give  him  certain  experiences, 
predominately  feeling  and  active  in  their  nature.  A  thing 
is  an  occasion  on  which  he  has  certain  impressions  and 


196  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

feelings,  and  which  call  for  a  certain  kind  of  action  on  his 
part.  This  naive  view  which  the  child  has  of  reality, 
reflects  the  original  character  of  cognitive  experience,  the 
interweaving  of  intellectual  feeling  and  volitional  factors  in 
that  experience. 

The  fourth  fact  in  the  psychological  basis  of  the  prag- 
matic theory  of  knowledge  is,  The  social  character  of  ex- 
perience. Experience  is  a  social  tissue,  the  interwoven 
threads  of  which  run  m  unbroken  continuity  throughout. 
This  experience  web  is  made  up  of  distinguishable  portions 
of  experience,  each  of  which  possesses  a  unique  character, 
each  is  an  individual  center,  out  from  which  various  threads 
of  relation  run  to  other  like  centers.  A  mode  of  conscious 
functioning  characterizes  each  of  these  centers,  which  is  not 
repeated  elsewhere.  Every  bit  of  experience  has  thus  a  sub- 
jective character,  it  is  owned  or  appropriated  by  a  subject.  A 
peculiar  interest,  a  feeling  of  intimacy,  attaches  to  it  which 
we  denote  by  the  words,  my,  mine.  An  ego-centric  char- 
acter thus  belongs  to  every  significant  portion  of  experience. 
But  these  individual,  personal,  centers  of  experience  not- 
withstanding their  subjective,  ego-centric  character,  are  not 
isolated  or  separated  from  each  other;  no  one  of  them  func- 
tions independently  of  the  others;  each  transcends  and 
must  transcend  its  mere  subjectivity,  its  ego-centric  con- 
sciousness; for  each  one  is  constituted,  has  its  character 
determined  and  subsequently  comes  to  enter  consciously  into 
social  relations  with  other  individual  minds.  Historically 
regarded  there  has  never  been  such  a  human  ego  as  Descartes 
assumed  as  the  starting  point  for  knowledge.  No  human 
thinker  ever  began  his  career  as  a  solitary  being,  and  after- 
ward set  out  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  to  find  other  beings; 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  197 

a  knower  so  constituted,  if  indeed  he  could  know  anything, 
would  never  know  other  beings  than  his  own  poor  and  mean- 
ingless self.  Only  through  his  social  consciousness  does  the 
individual  attain  self -consciousness;  only  in  relation  to  his 
social  fellows  does  his  own  isolation  grow  defined.  The 
consequence  of  this  social  structure  of  experience  is,  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  cognitive  experience,  that  is 
merely  subjective.  In  the  growth  of  experience,  no  in- 
dividual mind  is  first  formed  with  a  merely  self  consciousness. 
This  social  implication  in  cognitive  experience  cannot  be 
denied  without  the  denial  of  the  experience  itseK.  Our 
knowledge  is  a  social  growth;  our  real  world  a  common 
world;  every  object  of  perception  is  a  social  object;  it  would 
not  be  a  real  object  for  me,  could  I  not  point  it  out  to  other 
minds.  Every  assertion  I  make  is  an  appeal  to  a  common 
mind,  as  the  standard  of  judgment.  The  co-presence  of 
other  minds  is  the  condition  on  which  I  possess  my  own 
mind.  Thus  is  the  social  character  of  experience  the  pre- 
supposition of  any  tenable  theory  of  knowledge. 

We  have  seen  the  psychological  foundation  on  which 
pragmatic  epistemology  is  based.  We  will  now  examine 
the  theory  itself.  Our  first  task  is  to  gain  a  right  con- 
ception of  the  function  of  thought.  To  do  this  we  must 
get  clearly  before  us  a  situation  out  of  which  thought 
arises,  in  which  it  can  be  seen  at  work.  We  will  call  this 
the  thought-knowledge-situation,  by  which  conjunction  of 
terms  I  mean  the  specific  occasion,  the  status  of  experience, 
out  of  which  the  thinking  that  is  to  issue  in  knowledge 
arises.  Our  actual  knowledge  is  always  particular;  there 
is  no  knowing  in  general ;  knowledge  presupposes  a  particular 
situation  out  of  which  it  comes  and  to  which  it  is  relevant. 


198  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

Thinking  as  the  instrumentality  by  which  knowledge  is 
achieved,  has  always  some  definite  antecedent,  and  deals 
with  a  specific  situation,  and  for  a  specific  end;  thinking  is 
a  method  of  solving  a  specific  problem. 

To  begin  with  the  thought-knowledge-situation : 
The  situation  out  of  which  thinking  comes  and  which 
calls  for  thought  is  characterized  by  such  facts  as  the 
following.  There  exist  between  the  parts  of  experience, 
obstacles  to  the  movement  of  ideas,  puzzle,  bewilderment, 
hindrance  to  activity,  wants  which  crave  satisfaction,  im- 
pulses with  no  defined  ends.  The  experience  status  is,  in 
consequence  of  these  discordant  elements  in  it,  problematic; 
it  sets  a  definite  problem;  to  change  this  experience,  to 
transform  the  situation  into  one  which  shall  be  free  from 
discords,  perplexity,  and  dissatisfaction.  This  is  the 
problem  which  is  set  for  thought;  it  is  theoretical  as  well  as 
practical.  Such  being  the  situation  and  its  problem,  let 
us  follow  thought  in  the  solution  of  this  problem. 

Its  first  task  is  to  define  clearly  the  given  situation.  This 
it  does  by  analysis  and  discrimination  of  all  the  elements 
within  the  situation  and  by  ascertaining  their  connections; 
in  short  this  preliminary  work  of  thought  is  a  definition  of 
the  presented  facts,  a  clear  statement  of  the  problem  which 
they  present.  Now  supposed  the  situation  defined,  the 
problem  stated.  The  next  step  to  be  observed  in  the  think- 
ing operation  is  the  forming  of  an  idea  or  conception  of  the 
experiential  status,  which  were  it  present  as  the  given 
experience  is  present,  would  terminate  the  discord,  the 
dissatisfaction,  etc.,  in  the  present  situation.  This  tentative 
idea  is  also  an  idea  of  what  is  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  opera- 
tion upon  the  existing  datum,  in  order  to  effect  the  desired 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  199 

result.  The  idea  is  consequently  a  plan  of  action;  it  is 
something  which  can  institute  and  guide  experiential 
operations.  This  idea  in  some  situations  is  clearly  a  purpose, 
an  intent,  it  aims  at  a  kind  of  experience  which,  were  it 
present,  would  be  the  fulfillment  of  a  purpose.  Now  it  is 
clear  that  as  the  pragmatist  conceives  the  matter,  the 
cognitive  idea  is  representative  of  experience,  of  experiential 
activities  and  states;  it  is  a  substitute  for  such  experiences, 
functions  in  their  place  and  in  the  place  of  the  experiences 
which  are  sought  as  object  or  goal  of  the  cognitive  process 
and  in  the  place  of  the  intermediary  experiential  operation 
by  means  of  which  the  terminal  experiences  are  reached 
Now  comes  the  final  step  in  the  cognitive  process.  This 
consists  in  an  experiential  operation  or  process  of  the  follow- 
ing sort:  Under  the  guidance  of  the  tentative  idea  as  a  plan 
of  action,  there  follow  certain  actions  and  experience  proc- 
esses, which  lead  to  and  terminate  in  the  experience  which 
harmonizes  the  discrepancies,  clears  up  the  perplexities, 
satifies  the  w^ant  and  relieves  the  tension;  and  ends  the 
dissatisfaction  which  characterized  the  original  situation. 
This  fulfilling  and  satisfying  experience  in  its  connection 
with  all  that  has  lead  to  it,  is  when  retrospectively  viewed, 
knowledge.  For  looking  back  and  taking  the  ex£erience 
states,  ideas  and  actions  and  their  immediate  consequences, 
we  can  say  each  of  them  was  cognitive  in  its  meaning  and 
aim;  and  their  realized  meaning,  their  successful  aim  is  what 
constitutes  knowledge.  Here  is  the  step  from  idea  to  knowl- 
edge. This  terminal  experience  is  first  present  in  idea,  is  the 
idea's  meaning,  its  intent  and  aim.  By  the  operation  of 
that  idea  in  the  control  and  guidance  of  action,  this  ex- 
perience becomes  actual;  the  idea  has  made   good,  it  has 


200  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

become  successful,  and  this  its  proved  value  is  what  we  shall 
later  see  is  the  meaning  of  that  much  discussed  term  truth. 
It  will  make  this  meaning  of  cognitive  experience  more 
intelligible  if  we  study  one  or  two  concrete  cases.  The 
first  shall  be  the  case  of  a  man  who  has  lost  his  way  in  a 
forest,  is  exhausted  by  his  fruitless  wanderings,  is  without 
food  and  shelter,  exposed  to  the  perils  of  wild  animals. 
These  facts  constitute  the  situation,  which  sets  the  problem 
of  knowledge.  In  this  instance  the  problem  is  altogether 
practical;  it  is  to  get  out  of  the  woods  to  a  place  of  safety, 
where  the  man  can  get  shelter  and  food.  The  solution 
of  this  man's  problem  of  knowledge  is  accomplished  in  the 
following  way : 

(1)  The  man's  thinking  defines  clearly  his  situation,  all 
the  elements  which  constitute  it,  all  that  is  relevant  to  what 
the  situation  calls  for. 

(2)  The  man  forms  a  tentative  idea  which  in  this  case  is 
essentially  a  plan  of  action;  this  idea  contains  every  operation 
by  means  of  which  he  seeks  to  realize  his  practical  aim; 
every  item  of  experience  which  is  relevant  to  the  actions  he 
is  to  perform  enters  into  this  idea.  This  idea  includes  also 
whatever  feature  or  fact  of  his  environment  he  needs  to 
take  account  of  in  working  out  his  problem,  obstacles  to  be 
overcome,  things  which  can  further  his  plan,  all  these  things 
form  a  part  of  his  real  world  at  the  time. 

(3)  The  man  working  upon  this  idea,  being  guided  in  his 
various  actions  by  it,  finally  reaches  the  place  of  safety, 
shelter  and  supply  of  his  needs.  This  is  the  terminal 
experience,  at  the  beginning  was  present  in  idea,  is  now 
actual  and  is,  when  viewed  in  relation  to  the  experiences  that 
have  led  to  it,  knowledge. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  201 

The  next  case  shall  be  a  situation  which  presents  a 
distinctly  theoretical  problem.  Let  it  be  the  case  of  an 
astronomer,  who  notes  in  the  movements  of  a  known 
planet,  certain  irregularities,  the  cause  of  which  he  has 
not  yet  ascertained.  The  thought  knowledge  situation  in 
this  instance,  contains  discrepancies  between  actual  and 
predicted  events,  discontinuity  in  place  of  continuity,  dis- 
satisfaction arising  from  baffled  endeavors,  and  unrelieved 
preplexity.  The  specific  problem  which  the  situation  sets 
is,  to  get  an  experience  in  which  this  disturbing  discrepancy 
is  removed;  the  idea  which  thought  constructs,  we  will  sup- 
pose is  that  of  a  planetary  body  of  a  definite  mass  and  posi- 
tion in  the  solar  system.  This  idea  is  then  acted  upon ;  it 
instigates  and  directs  a  course  of  experiential  operations — 
say,  observing  with  telescope,  measuring,  computing,  com- 
paring computed  with  observed  facts,  etc. — ^with  the  final 
result  that  this  object  fits  into  the  context  of  experience,  so 
as  to  remove  all  discrepancies,  and  fill  the  gap,  in  contin- 
uity; in  short  make  this  frustration  of  effort,  and  this  un- 
pleasant break  in  the  continuity  of  events  shall  be  removed. 
The  tentative  idea  makes  the  whole  experience  situation 
harmonious,  coherent  and  satisfying.  Here  again  knowl- 
edge is  seen  to  be  the  final  result  of  an  experience  process, 
having  two  termini  and  an  intervening  or  intermediary 
experiential  operation,  which  finally  links  these  two  termini 
or  portions  of  experience.  We  see  that  the  function  of 
thought  is  to  effect  this  final  connection  between  these  por- 
tions of  experience,  or  to  effect  the  transition  from  the 
experience-portion  we  call  the  situation-for-thought,  the 
terminus  a  quo  situation,  to  the  experience  portion  which, 
completes  the  meaning,  removes  the  discords,  and  the  dis- 


202  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

satisfactions  which  characterized  the  initial  experience. 
When  this  has  been  done,  the  thought-knowledge  situation 
is  worked  out,  the  problem  of  knowledge  is  solved. 

THE  PRAGMATIC  MEANING  OF  TRUTH 

We  have  seen  that  the  function  of  an  idea  is  to  institute 
and  direct  various  actions  and  their  accompaniments  so  as 
to  secure  a  desirable  reconstruction  of  experience.  Thus, 
in  the  case  of  the  man  lost  in  the  forest,  the  idea  guided 
his  actions,  directed  his  perception  and  inferences  to  the 
desired  end.  Now  this  successful  dischage  of  its  function, 
this  efficiency  and  good  working  of  an  idea,  is  what  prag- 
matists  mean  by  the  truth  of  an  idea.  A  true  idea  is  one 
which  works  well,  in  the  sense  that  consequences  which 
follow  from  its  adoption,  are  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term 
desirable  consequences,  theoretically  satisfying  as  well  as 
practically  satisfactory.  To  work  well  in  experience  and 
to  be  true,  are  two  expressions  for  the  same  fact.  These 
good  consequences  of  an  idea  are  also  the  criterion  of  its 
truth,  they  are  its  verification;  not  however  in  the  sense  that 
they  merely  prove  that  the  idea  was  true,  they  are  the 
trueness  of  the  idea  itself.  Since  they  constitute  the  truth 
of  the  idea,  they  of  course  verify  the  idea  in  the  sense  of 
proving  it  true.  Our  man  in  the  forest  after  he  had  found 
his  way  out,  and  sitting  down  in  security  and  comfort,  and 
recalling  the  way  in  which  he  had  w  rked  himself  out  of  the 
undesirable  situation  into  the  present  satisfying  one,  if  he 
was  a  pragmatist,  he  did  not  say,  **  The  idea  I  formed  and 
adopted  as  a  plan  of  action,  was  a  true  idea  the  minute  I 
formed  it,  and  my  subsequent  working  upon  it,  and  the 
resulting  experiences  have  proved  that  it  then  was  a  true  idea. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  203 

in  other  words  verified  my  idea.  I  did  not  make  its  truth, 
I  only  became  certain  of  its  truth,  its  being  true  and  my 
knowledge  of  its  being  true  are  two  distinct  things,  the 
truth  of  my  idea  is  one  thing,  the  verification  of  this  idea  i^ 
quite  a  different  thing."  Now,  this  is  just  the  way  a  realistic 
rationalist  or  an  intellectualist  would  view  the  matter;  and 
were  our  traveller  a  thinker  of  this  type,  this  would  be  his 
reasoning.  But  our  pragmatist  would  reason  after  this 
manner,  *'  My  idea  which  I  tentatively  adopted  as  a  plan 
of  action,  was  successful  in  guiding  the  course  of  experience 
to  this  satisfying  issue;  and  this  successful  working  of  my 
idea  is  what  I  mean  by  its  being  true.  My  idea  was  not 
true  to  begin  with;  it  became  true,  it  was  made  true,  it  made 
good  by  its  working;  and  this,  its  making  good  and  being 
true  are  two  expressions  of  the  same  fact.  In  a  sense  I 
could  say  that  inasmuch  as  it  was  the  kind  of  idea  that  was 
fitted  to  lead  to  these  good  consequences,  it  was  potentially 
true  the  moment  I  formed  it;  just  as  I  say  this  cheque  I 
have  in  my  pocket,  is  potentially  good;  it  will  bring  cash 
at  the  bank,  its  cash  value  is  its  actual  goodness.  So  with 
my  idea,  it  was  practically  good  and  could  be  cashed  in 
terms  of  actual  experience,  but  it  was  actually  good  or  true 
only  as  it  did  get  reduced  to  concrete  experience.  Or,  to 
put  the  matter  in  a  different  way,  my  idea  had  a  claim  to 
being  true,  when  I  entertained  it  in  the  forest.  This  claim 
was  subsequently  made  good." 

The  pragmatist's  proposition  that  true  ideas  are  those 
which  are  satisfying,  those  which  have  satisfactory  conse- 
quences, has  exposed  his  doctrine  to  misunderstanding. 
He  is  supposed  to  mean  that  any  idea  is  true  the  enter- 
tainment  of  which   by  the  mind,   affords   satisfaction   or 


204  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

makes  one  feel  well.  He  is  supposed  to  identify  truth  with 
satisfaction,  as  a  good  state  of  feeling,  pleasure,  hope, 
etc.  x\ccording  to  this  interpretation  our  lost  traveller's 
idea  of  getting  out  of  the  forest,  etc.,  was  true  when  he 
formed  it,  provided  it  gave  him  satisfaction  in  cherishing 
it ;  if  it  made  him  happy,  hopeful,  etc. 

Now,  the  pragmatist  does  not  mean  that  the  satisfaction  of 
this  sort,  felt  in  entertaining  an  idea  makes  the  idea  true, 
or  affords  evidence  of  its  truth.  The  satisfying  consequences 
he  means  are  those  which  follow  the  adoption  of  the  idea,  and 
the  acting  upon  this  idea.  They  are  the  whole  course  of 
subsequent  experience,  and  they  include  objective  things  as 
well  as  subjective  conditions,  theoretic  consequences  and 
theoretic  satisfactions  as  well  as  practically  satisfying  con- 
sequences. 

Before  passing  to  the  next  part  of  the  pragmatist's  doctrine, 
a  word  should  be  added  to  what  has  been  said  upon  the 
distinction  between  truth  and  verification.  For  the  prag- 
matist, the  truth  of  an  idea  and  the  verification  of  an  idea 
do  not  connote  different  things,  but  distinguishable  aspects 
of  the  same  thing.  Thus  to  recur  to  our  lost  traveller: 
Keeping  his  hypothetical  idea  like  a  map  in  his  hand,  and 
comparing  with  the  idea  his  actual  experiences  as  they 
successively  came  to  him,  he  could  say  he  was  verifying  his 
idea;  but  he  would  also  say  the  same  experiences  into  which 
the  idea  was  leading,  were  what  he  meant  by  the  truth  of 
the  idea.  So  that  the  truth  of  his  idea  consisted  in  its 
verification.  Its  verification  was  inseparable  from  its  being 
true.  The  pragmatist's  distinction  between  truth  and 
verification  is  identical  with  the  distinction  between  poten- 
tial truth   and   actual  truth.     Verification   is    the    passing 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  205 

from  the  potential  to  the  acutal  truth  of  an  idea;  it  is  getting 
the  idea  cashed  in  terms  of  concrete  experience. 

THE    PRAGMATIC    MEANING    OF    REALITY    OR    THE 
OBJECT    IN     KNOWLEDGE 

The  pragmatist  meaning  of  reahty  has  been  the  occasion 
of  scarcely  less  misunderstanding  and  dispute  than  his 
meaning  of  truth.  The  pragmatist  has  no  hesitancy  in 
accepting  the  following  propositions:  Our  thinking  deals 
with  reality;  our  ideas  are  true  or  false  according  to  the  way 
in  which  they  deal  with  reality.  It  is  by  reality  that  we  judge 
of  the  success  or  failure  or  our  cognitive  endeavors.  But,  by 
the  term  reality,  the  pragmatist  does  not  mean  something 
which  is  independent  or  separable  from  experience.  Reality 
is  intra-  not  eccira-experiential.  The  stuff  of  which  reality 
is  made  so  far  as  we  have  to  do  with  reality  in  cognitive 
experience  is  the  stuff  of  w^hich  experience  is  made.  The 
predicate  term  real  does  not  connote  something  that  is  non- 
or  trans-experiential,  but  a  character  of  experience,  or  some 
particular  portion  of  experience  or  its  contents.  We  say 
of  a  certain  experience,  it  is  real  just  as  we  say  that  it  is  inter" 
esting  or  dull.  To  recur  to  the  exposition  of  the  thought- 
knowledge-situation.  The  thought  situation  is  de  jacto 
real;  discordant  experiences,  obstacles  to  activity,  per- 
plexity in  thinking,  etc.,  these  are  facts,  they  constitute  our 
reality  then  and  there.  Reality  is  something  which  must 
be  taken  account  of,  with  which  we  have  to  reckon.  But 
none  of  these  presented  facts  are  extra-experiential.  They 
are  experience  facts.  Their  realness  is  the  relation  they 
sustain  to  our  purposes,  our  aims,  our  wants,  etc.  Now  our 
thinking  as  we  have  seen,  sets  out  from  this  kind  of  reality,  as 


206  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

its  datum  or  terminus  a  quo,  and  it  leads  through  various 
intermediaries  as  it  may  be,  into  another  reality,  a  reality 
of  a  different  character.  It  is  a  reality  which  means  a 
removal  of  discrepancies,  of  want,  etc.  When  these  two 
portions  of  experience  are  brought  together,  or  rather  when 
an  experience  status  has  been  brought  about  in  which  both 
the  experience  portions  are  united,  we  have  the  object,  the 
reality  aimed  at.  Now  in  the  cognitive  operation  there  is  no 
transcendence  of  experience,  qua  experience,  but  there  is 
brought  about  an  altered,  improved  and  more  satisfying 
kind  of  experience.  And  this  leads  to  another  feature  of 
the  pragmatist  conception  of  reality.  Realities  are  not 
static,  unchangeable  things,  the  real  world  is  not  unchange- 
able, not  incapable  of  being  made  better  or  worse,  is  not 
completed,  there  can  be  more  of  it.  Our  realities  can  be 
made  over,  made  better  and  more  satisfying.  Some  of 
them  at  least  can  be  remolded  closer  to  the  heart's  desire; 
none  of  them  remain  what  they  were  after  we  have  worked 
upon  them.  It  is  the  function  of  our  thinking,  it  is  the 
meaning  of  our  cognitive  endeavor,  to  reconstruct  a  reality 
which  is  unsatisfying  for  various  reasons  and  to  put  in  the 
place  of  it  another  reality  which  is  satisfying  to  all  our 
interests. 

K  there  be  reality  which  is  already  complete,  unchange- 
able, etc.,  it  lies  outside  the  field  of  our  experience;  and  our 
purposes  and  interests  can  take  no  account  of  it.  But 
within  the  field  of  experience,  the  only  reality  that  is  un- 
changed, is  that  which  we  have  had  no  occasion  to  change 
in  the  interests  of  our  purposes.  If  there  is  destined  to  be  for 
our  recognition,  an  Absolute,  and  therefore  unchangeable 
reality,  it  must  be  a  form  of  experience  which  no  one  could 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  207 

desire  to  change,  and  could  have  no  motive  to  change.  In 
that  experience  there  can  be  no  unsatisfied  want,  no  un- 
fulfilled intent,  no  unrealized  purpose,  no  incomplete 
fragment  of  meaning. 

Such  is  the  Absolute.  That  there  is  such  a  reality,  the 
pragmatist  is  as  free  to  postulate,  as  the  rationalist:  his 
position  is  that  with  a  reality  of  this  sort,  we  do  not  sustain 
properly  cognitive  relations.  The  reality  we  know  is 
susceptible  of  change  and  improvement  by  our  cognitive 
working;  it  is  just  our  function  as  thinkers  and  knowers  to 
add  something  to  reality,  to  improve  it  and  bring  it  closer  to 
our  ideal.  All  our  thinking  and  knowing  goes  on  the 
assumption  that  our  real  world  is  still  in  the  making;  and 
that  our  individual  endeavors  count  toward  the  achieve- 
ment of  a  better  kind  of  reality  than  we  yet  possess.  Com- 
pleted, perfected,  and  therefore  immutable  reality,  is  for  a 
thinker,  a  knower,  who  is  already  all  he  can  be  and  can 
aspire  to  be  and  who  has  nothing  left  but  to  enjoy  a  static 
and  absolute  perfection. 

OBJECTIONS  TO  THE  PRAGMATIC  THEORY   OF 
KNOWLEDGE 

A  theory  which  differs  so  radically  from  orthodox  ration- 
alism has  naturally  called  forth  vigorous  criticism.  And 
since  it  will  conduce  further  to  a  clearer  understanding  of 
pragmatism  I  will  now  discuss  some  of  these  objections. 

The  first  objection  is:  In  its  attempt  to  unite  the  ruling 
conceptions  and  methods  of  psychology  and  logic,  this  theory 
has  simply  confused  them  with  the  consequence  that  its 
own  method  is  neither  intelligible  as  logic  nor  as  psychology. 
The  objector  insists  that  psychology  and   logic  each  deal 


208  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

with  knowledge  in  ways  which  are  too  diverse  to  admit  of  the 
kind  of  connection  pragmatism  tries  to  maintain  between 
them. 

A  still  more  serious  result  of  this  oversight  of  essential 
differences  between  the  methods  of  psychology  and  of  logic  is 
a  misapprehension  of  the  nature  of  thought.  The  objector 
says,  **  I  have  no  difficulty  in  regarding  thinking  in  one  of 
its  aspects  as  a  process  in  experience.  Psychologically 
viewed,  thinking  as  every  other  conscious  functioning  is  an 
experience  process,  like  every  other  psychical  process;  it 
arises  under  definite  conditions,  goes  on  in  a  describable 
manner,  and  terminates  in  other  psychical  processes  or 
states;  but  when  I  am  asked  to  see  in  this  mode  of  experi- 
ence, the  logical  structure,  the  epistemological  significance  of 
thought,  I  confess  I  am  totally  unable  to  do  this."  "An 
experience  process  as  such  and  its  logical  and  epistemo- 
logical value  are,  I  am  constrained  to  think,  different 
things.  Experience  may  be  the  only  field  in  which  we  do 
think  and  in  which  our  thinking  can  be  valid,  but  it 
remains  true  that  in  that  field  thinking  has  a  character 
which  the  pragmatic  theory  fails  to  recognize." 

To  this  objection,  the  pragmatist  answers,  **Your  ob- 
jection is  an  instance  of  what  may  be  called  the  intellectual- 
ist's  fallacy,  namely,  taking  a  distinction  which  formal 
thinking  makes,  for  a  real  difference  in  the  matters  thought 
about.  Your  difficulty  arises  from  a  vicious  abstrac- 
tionism; this  wrong  use  abstraction  leads  you  to  take  a  part 
or  aspect  for  the  whole,  or  rather  to  take  an  aspect  of  ex- 
perience to  be  something  which  is  itself  other  than  ex- 
perience. Because  intellect  or  logical  thinking  is  dis- 
tinguishable from  other  processes  in  experience,  you  think 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  209 

it  is  different  from  experience  itself.  Your  whole  objection 
is  based  on  the  assumption  that  where  our  abstract  thinking 
makes  a  distinction,  there  must  be  a  real  difference  in  the 
matters  themselves." 

But  the  objector  presses  his  attack  at  another,  and  seem- 
ingly more  vulnerable  point  and  says,  '*The  reasoning  by 
which  you  maintain  your  doctrine  of  truth  moves  in  a  circle, 
for  your  doctrine  asserts  that  the  successful  and  satisfactory 
working  of  an  idea  and  the  truth  of  this  idea  are  the  same 
thing.  Now,  you  must  give  some  reason  for  the  fact  that 
an  ide^z5  successful,  does  work  well  in  experience,  while 
answer  another  idea  fails  to  work  well.  You  are  bound  to 
answer  the  question,  why  does  a  given  idea  work  well  in  ex- 
perience ?  It  is  certainly  no  answer  to  this  question,  mere- 
ly to  point  to  the  successful  working  of  the  idea,  any  more 
than  it  is  a  fitting  answer  to  the  question,  why  is  A  a 
successful  man,  merely  to  point  to  his  actual  success." 

**Now,  examination  shows  that  the  reason  why  an  idea 
does  work  well  in  experience  is  something  quite  different 
from  the  merely  good  working  itself,  just  as  the  reason  why 
a  knife  cuts  well  is  distinct  from  its  mere  cutting  well.  Now, 
this  reason  must  be  found  in  the  idea,  qua  idea,  in  its  rela- 
tion to  something  which  is  other  than  the  consequences 
which  result  from  that  relation.     Now  it  is  just  this  relation 

between  the  true  idea  and  fact  or  reality  which  your  theory 
overlooks.  The  consequence  of  this  oversight  is  that, 
when  your  try  to  give  a  reason  why  an  idea  works  well,  you 
can  do  so  only  in  appearance;  for  you  are  compelled  to  say 
an  idea  is  true  because  it  works  well,  and  it  works  well 
because  it  is  true." 

The  pragmatist  meets  this  objection  in  the  following  way: 


210  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

*'Just  why  a  given  idea  does  work  well,  and  is  therefore 
true  I  do  not  profess  to  know  any  more  than  I  claim 
to  know  why  our  world  of  experience  is  what  it  is. 
Doubtless  an  all  knower  could  answer  this  question.  It 
certainly  is  no  answer  to  this  question  to  say,  as  you  do, 
it  is  because  the  ideas  agree  with  something,  called  reality, 
real  world,  etc.;  for  that  is  as  much  an  enigma  as  the 
fact  you  ask  me  to  explain.  A  true  idea  does  have  its 
own  distinctive  character,  in  virtue  of  which  it  works 
well,  but  why  it  has  this  character,  how  it  came  by  it,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  know.  Nor  does  it  seem  to  me  that  you 
really  answer  this  question,  by  appealing  to  reality  or  a  real 
world;  and  to  this  ineffable  relation  of  the  idea  to  it,  called 
agreement,  correspondence,  etc.  Unless  you  already  know 
what  this  real  world  is,  agreement  with  which  makes  the 
idea  true,  I  must  think  your  reason  is  but  an  instance  of 
explaining  the  unknown  by  the  equally  unknown.  The 
difference  between  us  at  this  point  is  this,  I  frankly  confess 
I  cannot  answer  the  question,  why  a  given  idea  works  well 
and  is  therefore  true.  You  answer  this  question  by  appeal- 
ing to  a  sort  of  a  relation  between  the  idea  and  reality,  the 
very  nature  of  which  is  still  problematic." 

But  the  objector  makes  a  third  attack  upon  this  doctrine. 
It  is  to  this  effect:  '*If  you  are  consistent  as  a  pragmatist,  you 
ought  to  be  a  most  solitary  being;  nay,  you  are  a  solipsist. 
Yourself,  your  subjective  experiences  are  your  only  real 
world;  for  you  can  think  of  and  know  only  that  experience 
which  is  your  own;  no  other  experience  is  fact  for  you  but 
that  of  which  you  can  say,  my  experience.  Your  individual 
experience  is  the  only  experience  you  are  entitled  to  recog- 
nize.    If  you  set  up  the   fiction  of  other   minds,  as   you 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  211 

doubtless  can  do,  it  is  to  play  with  them  as  dummies  in  a 
game  of  solitaire.  You  cannot  logically  convince  yourself 
that  the  other  minds  are  other  than  bits  of  your  own  ex- 
perience, any  more  than  the  player  of  solitaire  can  delude 
himseK  into  the  belief  that  his  dummy  is  a  real  human 
player.  No,  if  you  will  be  a  consistent  pragmatist  in  your 
epistemology,  you  must  be  a  solipsist  in  your  metaphysics.*' 
To  this  objection  which  by  some  is  held  to  be  unanswerable, 
the  pragmatist  can  make  the  following  reply:  **The  psycho- 
logical basis  of  pragmatism  which  no  rejecter  of  this  theory 
has  yet  overthrown,  distinctly  shows  that  our  human 
experience  is  social  in  its  very  structure.  Consequently  such 
an  individual  as  your  solipsist  cannot  exist;  and,  therefore, 
I  am  absolved  from  the  task  of  saving  my  theory  from 
solipsism.  But,  wefe  such  a  predicament  conceivable 
and  the  logical  consequence  of  my  theory,  can  you  who 
adhere  to  an  intellectualistic  logic  save  yourself  from  the 
same  fatep  Pray  how  do  you  rationally  know  that  you 
are  not  alone  ?  How  do  you  by  your  method  of  knowing, 
reach  the  existence  of  other  beings  than  yourself  ?  Can  you 
save  yourself  from  logical  solipsism  in  any  other  way  than  by 
the  pragmatic  method  of  salvation  from  doubt  ?  It  is  just 
because  experience  with  one  solitary  individual  in  it,  would 
be  an  intolerable  situation,  and  must  therefore  be  worked 
over  and  transformed  into  a  social  experience,  that  no  in- 
dividual who  is  a  pragmatist  could  remain  a  solitary  being, 
did  he  find  himself  in  such  a  predicament." 

"So  far  then  from  its  being  true  that  pragmatism  is  logic- 
ally solipsism,  pragmatism  aflPords  the  only  logical  escape 
from  solipsism." 

But,   pragmatism  encounters   another  objection   to   this 


212  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

effect:  According  to  this   theory,  the  same  idea  can   be 
true  and  false  at  the  same  time,  true  for  one  mind  and  false 
for  another.     For,  if  it  be  that  of  an  individual  only,  then  the 
same  idea  may  work  well  in  the  one  individual's  experience, 
and  fail  to  work  well  in  the  experience  of  another  individual. 
Thus,  the  idea  of  there  being  intelligent  being  on  the  planet 
Mars,  works  well  in  A's  experience,  while  the  same  idea 
does  not  work  well  in  B's  experience.     Consequently  the 
same  idea  would  be  both  true  and  false     This  objection 
is  met  by  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  verifying 
experience  is  not  that  of  an  individual  merely,  but  of  all 
individuals,  or  experience  in  general.     An  idea  in  order  to 
be  true  must  work  well  throughout  experience;  and  it  is  not 
completely  true  until  it  has  done  so.     But  the  objection  is 
pushed  farther,  and  the  objector  now  says,  *'  The  same  idea, 
since  it  is  not  wholly  true  for  one  individual  and  not  wholly 
untrue  for  another,  is  in  part  true  and  in  part  not  true  for 
all  individuals.    The  same  idea  would  then  be  a  mixture  of 
both  characters,  true  and  false."     But  the  pragmatist  sees 
nothing  serious  in  this  objection.     He  readily  admits  this 
mixed  character  of  an  idea,  its  character  of  being  only  par- 
tially true.     That  only  means  that  an  idea  can  be  more  or 
less  true,  or  that  truth  has  degrees.     For,  since  an  idea 
acquires  its  truth  or  untruth  according  to  its  working  in 
experience,  it  becomes  true  so  far  as  it  works  well,  and  fails 
of  that  character  so  far  as  it  fails  to  work  well.     Indeed,  the 
pragmatist  can  maintain  that  the  admission  of  degrees  of 
truth  occasions  no  more  difficulty  on  his  theory  than  on  the 
theory  of  rationalism. 

One  more  objection  to  pragmatic  epistemology  remains, 
and  in  the  judgment  of  many  antipragmatists,  this  objec- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  213 

tion  is  valid  and  most  serious.  '* Pragmatism,"  says  the  - 
objecter,  "leaves  the  ethical  and  religious  demands  unsat- 
isfied. It  does  so  because  with  the  most  favorable  in- 
terpretation, experience  is  purely  humanistic;  the  theory 
can  recognize  only  our  human  experience.  The  only  world 
which  the  pragmatist  can  admit  is  the  world  of  our  human 
Hves.  There  is  for  the  consistent  pragmatist  no  trans- 
human  reality.  \Yhatever  ideals,  whatever  aspirations, 
whatever  dissatisfactions  exist  in  our  experience,  the  only 
fulfilling  and  satisfying  reality  there  is  to  which  we  may 
look,  is  made  of  the  stuff  of  these  same  human  experiences. 
We  are  not  permitted  to  look  beyond  our  human  type  of 
reality.  For  the  satisfaction  of  our  ethical  and  rehgious 
needs,  and  ideals,  we  must  look  to  our  possibly  better  selves. 

Our  idealized  selves  are  our  Gods.  In  answer  to  our  cry 
after  the  divine,  the  All  Good,  there  can  only  be  given  that 
fragment  of  truth  and  goodness  which  our  human  finite 
selves  can  possess." 

To  this  objection  the  pragmatist  can  make  this  answer: 
My  doctrine  does  not  limit  experience  to  our  own  human 
type.  I  set  no  bonds  to  possible  experience.  Why  may 
not  the  social  experience  embrace  the  supra-human,  the 
Divine  as  well  as  the  other  human  minds  ?  True,  there  is 
a  closeness  and  intimacy  of  connection  between  our  human 
minds  that  we  have  not  yet  realized  between  ourselves  and 
the  greater  than  human  experience.  I  acknowledge,  realize, 
and  communicate  with  my  human  fellows,  as  I  do  not 
acknowledge  and  communicate  with  any  other  parts  of 
experience.  The  experience  portions  which  mean  other 
minds  like  my  own,  and  things  not  minds  (possibly),  get 
linked   to   my   individual   mind,   become   interwoven   with 


214  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

the  very  experience  I  call  mine;  because  I  am  constantly  en- 
gaged in  solving  various  problems  which  arise  in  my  experi- 
ence, and  for  the  solution  of  which  I  am  constantly  sent,  as 
it  were,  to  these  other  minds.  It  is  otherwise  with  that  vast 
outlying  tract  of  experience.  How  much  of  it  is  destined  to 
become  cognitively  connected  with  my  individual  being 
as  these  nearer  experience  centers  are  connected,  no  one  can 
say;  but  up  to  date  that  whole  region  is  hardly  more  than 
postulated  reality.  Now,  in  this  outlying  region  of  trans- 
human  experience,  we  put  the  Divine,  the  All  Good  Being, 
just  as  in  idea  we  represent  a  finite  and  human  experience. 
The  difference,  however,  is  this.  The  divine  reality  remains 
still  a  postulated  experience,  we  have  not  yet  verified  its  ex- 
istence, or,  rather,  our  idea  of  it  by  the  experiential  connec- 
tions, through  which  in  the  case  of  other  finite  portions  of 
experience,  we  verify  our  ideas.  Has  not,  therefore,  the  prag- 
matist  the  same  right  to  postulate  God  as  his  rationalistic 
objector  ?  Nay,  is  it  not  the  pragmatic  method  we  all  adopt 
when  in  our  dissatisfaction  with  the  experience  reality  we 
call  the  finite  universe,  and  our  human  existence,  we  seek 
a  form  of  experience  which  were  it  present  and  really  ours 
as  this  fragmentary,  discordant,  and  unsatisfying  reality 
is  present,  would  solve  our  problem,  fulfill  our  still  unrealized 
purposes,  and  satisfy  our  still  unsatisfied  cravings  and 
minds  ?  Or,  why  should  not  a  pragmatist  of  all  men  if  he 
finds  our  human  experience  in  its  totality  unsatisfactory 
and  in  need  of  reconstruction,  not  set  about  that  task  of 
gaining  this  satisfying  form  of  experience,  in  the  same  way 
in  which  he  proceeds  with  any  particular  finite  piece  of 
experience,  and  consequently  frame  the  tentative  idea  of  a 
reality  he  calls  God.     True,  he  must  wait  for  the  verifica- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  215 

tion  of  this  idea;  perhaps  that  verification  will  never  come. 
But,  is  the  case  otherwise  with  the  rationalist  ?  Does  he  vet 
know  that  the  God  of  his  idea  exists  ?  Has  he  verified  his 
postulated,  his  hypothetical  God-idea  ?  Therefore,  I  con- 
clude, the  pragmatist  need  not  be  without  God  in  his  world. 
Pragmatism  does  not  leave  the  ethical  and  religious  demands 
of  our  nature  unsatisfied." 

I  have  presented  the  epistemology  of  pragmatism  and  the 
pragmatist's  defense  of  his  doctrine.  A  comparison  of 
this  theory  with  the  theory  of  empiricism  shows  a  very  close 
relation  existing  between  them.  One  might  almost  be 
justified  in  saying  the  pragmatic  theorj^  of  knowledge  is 
empiricism,  only  of  a  more  radical  sort  than  the  older 
empirical  theory.  But  more  careful  examination  dis- 
closes not  unimportant  differences  between  the  epistemolo- 
gies  and  in  the  conceptions  of  experiences.  In  the  empiri- 
cism of  Locke,  Hume  and  their  followers,  experience  is 
merely  the  passive  reception  of  impressions  of  sense.  These 
original  impressions  passively  received,  are  copied,  re- 
produced in  ideas,  which  of  course  imply  action  of  mind. 
Other  mental  activities  are  recognized  in  discrimination, 
abstract  thinking,  etc.,  but  just  how  these  active  functions 
are  related  to  experience  as  the  empiricist  conceives  it,  is 
not  clear.  The  tendency  of  this  general  theory  is  to  regard 
the  whole  process  of  ideation  and  knowing  as  passive  rather 
than  active.  Thinking,  knowing  are  not  constructive,  or 
reconstructive  activities;  they  are  simply  reproduction  or 
representation  of  reality  already  made  and  determined  in  all 
its  important  features,  without  the  coopeartion  of  our  think- 
ing and  cognitive  activity.  Now,  quite  in  contrast  w^ith  this 
conception  of  experience  and   its   relation   to   knowledge, 


216  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

pragmatism  makes  experience  fundamentally  active  and 
coextensive  with  all  our  modes  of  action.  Experience  is 
experiment,  tentative  activity,  directed  to  something. 
What  is  passive  in  it  is  only  the  occasion,  the  datum  for 
action,  which  seeks  always  to  change,  reconstruct —  this 
merely  given.  Experience  is  experiencing,  and  that  means 
experimenting;  and  into  this  experimental  process,  there 
enter  as  cooperant  factors,  all  our  functions,  perception, 
thinking,  feeUng,  willing.  There  is  no  such  experience  as 
passive  reception  of  impressions.  Our  very  reception  is 
reactive;  the  nearest  approach  then  to  passivity,  in  mental 
attitude  is  the  simpler  feeUng  states,  pleasure  and  pain.  Ex- 
perience being  thus  through  and  through  activity,  perception, 
memory,  imagination,  thinkmg,  and  willing,  can  be  prop- 
eriy  characterized  as  definite  modes  of  experiencing. 

The  entire  web  or  context  of  experience,  woven  as  it  is  by 
these  activities  and  states,  and  always  in  process  of  change 
or  reconstruction,  is  the  reality  with  which  as  individuals 
we  have  to  do.  Now  this  conception  of  experience  carries 
with  it  a  second  feature  of  pragnaatic  epistemology,  in  which 
its  difference  from  empiricism  is  important,  the  conception 
of  knowledge.  Empiricism  is  intellectuahstic  in  its  idea  of 
knowledge.  It  is  in  accord  with  rationalism  on  this  point, 
that  the  function  of  the  intellect  is  to  know.  So  also  in  its 
conception  of  truth.  With  rationalism  it  holds  the  intellec- 
tuahstic doctrine  that  truth  is  agreement  or  correspondence 
between  idea  and  reahty  which  the  idea  does  not  determine, 
and  consequently  knowing  does  consist  in  having  con- 
sciously true  ideas  of  fact.  Furthermore,  the  empiricist's 
ideal  of  truth  and  knowledge  is  a  known  agreement  between 
our  ideals  and  a    real    worid    which  is  distinct  from  our 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  217 

experiences  of  it,  and  which  possesses  a  structure  that  we  in 
no  manner  constitute  or  change,  by  our  knowing.  The 
empiricists  of  the  older  type  always  judged  our  actual,  our 
attainable  knowledge,  by  this  ideal  of  knowledge,  and  hence 
the  doctrine  that  our  knowledge  is  limited  and  is  imperfect. 
Hence,  our  beliefs,  the  truth  of  which  we  can  never  know. 
Empiricism  in  rejecting  the  claim  of  rationalism  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  trans-experience  reality,  did  not  abandon  the 
thought  of  that  reality  and  it  continued  to  make  that  reality 
the  standard  real,  and  a  knowledge  of  it  the  ideally  true 
knowledge.  Hume's  scepticism  owes  its  whole  force  to 
this  conception  of  reality  and  knowledge,  which  is  in  the 
background  of  the  empirical  theory.  Now  we  have  only  to 
recall  the  pragmatic  doctrine  to  see  that  it  diverges  from 
empiricism  widely  on  this  important  point.  But  this  point 
can  best  be  discussed  under  the  topic  with  which  I  shall 
conclude  this  second  part  of  our  study.  This  topic  is 
Scepticism,  Doubt. 

We  have  first  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  this  mental 
state;  for  scepticism,  doubt,  whatever  be  the  proper  signifi- 
cation of  these  terms,  designate  a  mental  attitude  toward 
knowledge  and  truth,  or  to  a  claim  which  is  made  to  them. 
It  is  well  to  begin  with  the  observation  that  scepticism  does 
not  mean  denial.  So  far  as  one  denies,  he  does  not  doubt. 
On  the  contrary  he  asserts  knowledge.  If  I  deny  there  are 
intelligent  beings  on  the  planet  Mars,  I  at  the  same  time 
assert  a  knowledge  of  conditions  on  that  planet  which  exclude 
the  existence  of  such  beings  there.  If  I  deny  any  knowledge 
about  the  planet  Mars,  I  assert  a  knowledge  about  my  own 
mental  condition  or  my  cognitive  status.  I  assert  it  is  one 
which   excludes   knowledge.     The   essence   of   scepticism, 


218  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

doubt,  is  the  consciousness,  the  confession  of  ignorance.  It 
follows  from  this  meaning  of  scepticism,  that  it  cannot  be 
absolute.  I  may  assert  complete  ignorance  of  the  condi- 
tions which  obtain  on  the  planet  Mars,  but  I  at  least  know 
or  claim  to  know  that  there  is  such  a  planetary  body  as  Mars 
which  does  have  psychical  conditions  of  some  sort.  I  may 
assert  complete  uncertainty  as  to  the  existence  of  such  a 
planet  as  Mars,  but  to  do  so  I  must  know  or  claim  to  know 
something  about  the  solar  system  within  which  I  place  this 
problematic  being. 

We  must   next  ask  how  doubt  is  possible?     We  have 
seen  that  doubt   is   a   mental   attitude   toward   something 
which   is   conceived    or  suggested   as   real   or  true.     If  I 
doubt,  my  doubt  has  its  object,  I  doubt  about  something.     I 
can  be  ignorant  only  in   relation  to  a  conceived   state  of 
mind,  which  were  it  mine  would  be  knowledge.     Something, 
therefore,  which  I  lack,  and  the  confession  of  this  lack  of  a 
certain  ideal  state  I  call  knowledge,  is  what  I  mean  by  my 
ignorance  or  doubt.     It  follows  from  the  necessary  presup- 
position of  doubt,  that  both  the  nature  and  the  significance 
of  doubt  are  determined  by  the  conception  we  have  of  knowl- 
edge, and  of  truth.     Hence,  the  meaning  and  the  impor- 
tance of  scepticism  is  not  the  same  in  the  epistemology  of 
rationalism,  especially  realistic  rationalism,  as  it  is  in  the 
epistemology  of  pragmatism.     In  the  doctrine  of  realistic 
rationalism,  the  possibility  of  doubt  cannot  be  excluded, 
for  since  our  thought  deals  with  a  reality  whose  nature  is 
already  determined,  and  its  determinate  nature  is  wholly 
independent  of  our  thought,  the  truth  of  my  thought  must 
consist   simply    in    correspondence,    agreement    with    this 
reality.     Now,  unless  thought  by  its  own  structure  or  by  its 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  219 

own  operation  somehow  affords  indubitable  evidence  of  its 
truth,  that  evidence  must  come  ah  extra.  The  only  other 
sort  of  evidence  must  be  empirical  verification.  Now, 
verification  based  on  experience  can  never  carry  us  farther 
than  the  knowledge  of  complete  agreement  between  facts 
deduced  from  the  hypothetical  reality,  and  the  facts  of 
observation  and  experience;  but  this  does  not  exclude  the 
possibility  that  the  reality  might  be  other  than  it  is  con- 
ceived, and  yet  the  same  verification  be  possible.  It  will 
always  remain  possible  to  conceive  reality  otherwise,  or 
that  reality  is  other  in  its  own  nature  than  we  have  thought  it; 
hence  doubt  will  always  be  possible,  and  what  is  more 
serious,  it  will  be  possible  that  our  thought  is  completely 
wrong,  while  of  course,  there  may  be  degrees  of  truth,  the 
doubt  is  possible  that  in  a  given  case,  our  thought  has  the 
maximum  degree  of  untruth.  It  does  not  comfort  me  to  be 
told  that  my  idea  of  God  may  be  in  part  true,  so  long  as  I 
cannot  be  certain  whether  it  is  only  in  part  true  or  alto- 
gether untrue. 

If  we  turn  to  pragmatism  it  would  seem  at  first  sight  that 
doubt  has  a  very  different  significance  and  that  it  can  be 
overcome.  It  might  seem  that  pragmatism  offers  a  full 
salvation  from  philosophic  doubt.  Let  us  see  if  this  first 
impression  is  borne  out  by  more  critical  examination.  Ac- 
cording to  this  theory  ideas  are  true  in  varying  degrees;  an  X 
idea  is  true  if  it  works  well,  if  it  guides  experience  to  a 
successful  and  satisfying  result;  an  idea  is  consequently  true 
in  the  measure  in  which  its  working  is  good  and  satisfying. 
So  far  as  it  works  well  it  is  true,  so  far  as  it  fails  to  do  so  it 
lacks  truth.  Now,  so  far  as  an  idea  is  true,  there  must  be 
knowledge  of  this  truth;  for  this  working  well  is  a  matter  of 


220  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

experiential  knowledge.     An  idea  which  should  work  well 
throughout   experience,    work   altogether   well   and    bring 
completely    satisfying    consequences,    in    other    words    be 
completely  verified,  would  be  completely  true,  for  the  truth 
of  an  idea  and  its  verification  are  the  same  thing.     And 
hence  the  absolute   banishment  of  doubt  is  theoretically 
possible.     On  the  contrary,  in  realistic  rationalism,  theo- 
retic doubt  must  always  remain;  there  is  no  salvation  from 
it.     If  I  accept  pragmatism,  I  ought  never  to  suffer  more  than 
a  partial  doubt,  if  in  fact  so  much  as  that,  for  my  idea  being 
true  so  far  as  it  works  well,  and  I  knowing  whether  or  not 
it  does  work  well,  cannot  be  in  doubt.     And  since  an  idea 
acquires  the  character  of  truth  or  untruth    only  in  conse- 
quence of  its  working,  and  so  far  as  it  actually  does  work,  it 
would  seem  that  so  far  as  this  idea  becomes  true,  it  is  known 
to  be  true.     So  that  there  is  no  room  for  doubt;  it  cannot 
enter  at  any  point  in  the  career  of  this  idea.     But  is  there 
no  point  at  which  doubt  can  enter  into  a  good  pragmatist's 
mind  ?     Is    the    pragmatist    never    uncertain  ?     Is    there 
nothing  about  which  he  is  doubtful?     One  thing  is  clear, 
the  pragmatist  cannot  be  uncertain  about  the  same  matter  as 
the  intellectuahsts;  nor  is  he  uncertain  for  the  same  reason. 
Of  what  then  can  the  pragmatist  be  uncertain  ?  Concerning 
what  can  he  be  in  a  doubtful  state  of  mind  ?     In  answer,  I 
will  suggest  that  doubt  may  enter  for  the  pragmatist  at  two 
points;  first,  at  the  beginning  of  the  process  of  verification. 
To  recur  to  our  man   in  the  woods,  after  he  had  formed 
his  idea  of  his  course  of  action,  and  of  experience  which 
would  bring  the  desired  experience,  and  before  actual  work- 
ing upon  this   idea,   and  getting  knowledge   of  the   idea's 
good  working,  and  consequently  of  its  truth,  the  man  was,  we 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE  221 

will  suppose,  uncertain  whether  or  not  this  idea  would  work 
well.  I  am  supposing  that  the  only  experiential  working 
that  is  to  be  taken  into  account,  is  this  individual's  expe- 
rience, and  hence  the  only  open  question  was,  will  the  idea 
work  well  in  my  experience?  The  only  possible  uncer- 
tainty would  relate  to  this  possible  future  working  of  his 
idea.  Now,  observe  that  this  doubt  is  not  a  discouragement 
to  action,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  stimulus  to  action.  For 
the  man  can  banish  his  own  doubt,  he  can  know  the  truth, 
and  he  can  reach  a  point  beyond  possible  doubt.  Now, 
let  us  note  the  second  point  at  which  doubt  can  enter  the 
mind  of  a  pragmatist;  and  we  may  be  disposed  to  think 
this  doubt  if  genuine  is  as  bad  as  the  intellectualist's  doubt. 
This  other  opening  for  doubt  is  the  verifying  process.  In 
what  experience  must  an  idea  work  well,  if  it  is  a  true  idea  ? 
In  the  experience  of  the  individual  merely,  or  in  experience 
ueberhaupt  or  universal  experience  ?  If  in  the  latter  then 
how  is  the  individual  to  know  whether  or  not  his  idea  is  one 
which  does  work  in  experience  of  all  minds,  and  not  merely 
in  his  experience  ?  How  can  he  know  whether  the  idea 
which  works  well  in  his  experience  works  well  in  the  expe- 
rience of  all  other  minds  ?  Can  he  assume  that  there  is  a 
common  content  of  experience  or  character  of  experience, 
so  that  when  he  finds  an  idea  works  well  in  his  experience, 
he  can  be  certain  that  it  does  work,  or  would  work  in  the 
same  way  in  all  those  other  portions  of  experience  ?  Unless 
he  knows  this  fact,  must  he  not  have  to  wait  until  experience 
in  general  is  known  to  him  or  is  complete  before  his  uncer- 
tainty passes  into  knowledge  ?  If  so,  in  what  respect  does 
his  situation  differ  from  the  intellectualists  whose  doubt  as 
we  saw,  can  never  be  extinguished  ?     Could  our  intellec- 


222  THE  PROBLEM  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

tualist  doubter  become  all  knowing,  his  doubt,  of  course, 
would  vanish.  Could  our  pragmatist  get  all  experience 
under  his  view,  know  it  all,  his  uncertainty  would  likewise 
pass  away;  but  both  being  finite,  must  they  not  both  remain 
in  doubt  ?  But,  it  may  be  answered,  the  doubt  does  not 
have  the  same  significance  in  both  cases.  The  intellec- 
tualist*s  doubt  could  continue  were  verification  complete, 
while  complete  verification  in  the  case  of  the  pragmatist 's 
doubt  would  mean  its  extinction.  But  after  all,  has  this 
difference  anything  more  than  a  theoretic  importance  ? 
Practically,  do  not  both  tread  a  minimum  doubt  in  the  same 
way,  namely,  regard  it  as  a  negligible  quantity,  and  cease 
to  be  affected  by  it.^  Under  the  intellectualist's  view  of 
truth,  a  completely  verified  hypothesis  has  the  working 
value  in  a  certified  truth. 


PART  III 
THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  CONDUCT 

The  matters  we  shall  be  occupied  with  in  this  part  of  our 
study  form  the  subject  of  what  are  commonly  called  the 
philosophical  sciences,  ethics,  aesthetics,  and  religion. 
The  peculiarity  of  these  sciences  is,  that  the  judgments 
which  form  their  content  are  not  only  judgments  of  fact  but 
judgments  of  value.  In  ethics,  aesthetics,  and  religion  we 
have  to  do  with  appreciations,  and  not  with  descriptions 
merely,  with  values  and  not  with  facts  merely,  with  questions 
of  what  ought  to  be,  and  not  merely  with  what  is,  with  such 
hings  as  standards  and  ideals.  The  objects  which  form 
the  subject  matter  of  these  sciences  are  presented  to  us  in 
two  ways;  They  are  facts  to  be  described,  explained  as 
science  explains  all  its  facts.  They  are  also  objects  which 
have  value,  they  are  to  be  appreciated,  valued.  In  ethics, 
aesthetics,  and  religion  we  enter  a  world  of  appreciation, 
something  which  is  quite  other  than  the  world  of  description. 
In  these  subjects  we  have  to  do  with  both  worlds;  for  ex- 
ample, a  human  action,  in  one  aspect  of  it,  in  one  part  of 
its  reality,  belongs  to  the  world  of  description  as  truly  as 
does  a  body  moving  in  space;  it  is  something  to  be  explained, 

just  as  science  explains  any  phenomenon.     Both  the  external 

223 


224  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

observable  deed,  and  the  internal  mental  antecedents  and 
motives  to  the  deed  admit  of  a  natural  science  explanation. 
But  this  same  action  has  another  character,  there  is  another 
part  of  the  total  fact,  which  cannot  be  disposed  of  by  a 
scientific  explanation;  the  action  and  its  motivating  ante- 
cedents are   valued,    in    such   terms    as    right    or   wrong, 
good  or  bad.     This  value  judgment  is  altogether  distinct 
from  the  fact- judgment,  the  meaning  of  this  action  is  a 
problem  that  is  quite  other  than  the  problem  of  its  existence 
as  a  phenomenal  event.     This  value  judgment,  this  mean- 
ing of  the  action,  calls  for  an  explanation  which  has  no  recog- 
nition or  relevancy  in  the  field  of  science.     The  same  thing 
is  true  of  the  aesthetic  judgment;  aesthetic  valuation,  like 
ethical  valuation,  is  something  over  and  above  the  factual 
existence  of  the  thing  which  is  aesthetically  appreciated  or 
valued.     No  scientific  explanation  of  a  rose  will  explain  or 
justify  the  judgment,  the  rose  is  a  thing  of  beauty.     What 
is  true  of  ethical  and  aesthetic  valuation,  is  true  also  of 
religious  beliefs,  emotions,  and  actions.     Religion  is  one 
of  the  ways  in  which  we  respond  to,  react  toward  our  larger 
environment.     This  religious   reaction   embodies  itself  in 
form  of   beliefs,  emotions,  hopes,  fears  and  various  will 
attitudes.     Religion  is  a  form   of   appreciation,  a  way  of 
valuing    the    world-reality    in    its    relation    to    our    lives. 
Religious  belief  is  an  expression  of  the  value  which  its  object 
possesses  for  the  believer. 

It  is  customary  to  distinguish  logic,  ethics,  and  aesthet- 
ics as  normative  sciences,  because  a  norm,  or  standard, 
in  accordance  with  which  the  judgment  is  made,  is  pre- 
supposed in  their  judgments.  The  judgment  that  an  action 
is  right  or  good,  that  a  flower  is  beautiful,  presupposes  a 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  225 

standard,  an  ideal  or  norm  of  Tightness,  and  beauty.  The 
normative  character  of  the  science  of  rehgion  is  not  obvious ; 
but  reflection  discloses  this  normative  significance  of  religion ; 
for  we  have  seen,  we  have  to  do  with  valuation  in  religion 
as  in  ethics  and  aesthetics;  and  it  is  one  of  the  aims  of  the 
science  of  religion  to  ascertain  those  forms  of  belief,  those 
emotions  and  actions,  which  are  adapted  to  secure  this 
religious  valuation. 

We  have  accepted  the  designation,  philosophical  sciences; 
but  it  would  be  better  to  discard  this  term;  its  use  tends  to 
break  down  the  distinction  between  science  and  philosophy, 
which  is  no  less  clear  in  this  field  than  it  is  elsewhere.  It 
is  true  that  in  this  department  of  our  experience,  the  residual 
problems  which  are  left  when  science  has  done  her  work 
are  problems  of  greater  interest  and  importance  for  us, 
than  are  the  problems  which  belong  to  science  in  other 
spheres.  But  the  demarcation  of  philosophy  from  science 
is  no  less  to  be  maintained  in  this  field,  than  in  the 
other  fields  of  our  human  experience.  Ethics  and  aesthet- 
ics are  no  more  philosophical  sciences  than  are  physics  and 
chemistry. 

I.  THE  PROBLEM  OF  MORALITY 

Of  the  three  problems  which  fall  to  this  main  division 
of  our  study,  we  shall  deal  with  two  only,  the  problem  of 
morality  and  the  problem  of  religion.  We  take  them  in 
this  order,  and  we  first  note  that  the  main  problem  of  the 
moral  life  breaks  up  into  three  special  problems  as  follows: 

1.  The  relation  of  morality  to  metaphysics,  or  the 
Metaphysical  Implications  of  Ethics. 

2.  The  Problem  of  Free-will. 

3.  The  Problem  of  the  Good,  or  the  Ethical  End. 


226  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

Ethics  and  Metaphysics. 

In  answer  to  the  question  concerning  the  relation  between 
morality  and  metaphysics  we  meet  two  opposed  views; 
One  \dew  is  that  a  positive  and  vital  connection  exists 
between  one's  moral  life  and  one's  conception  of  the 
nature  of  reality,  or  one's  world-view.  The  opposite 
view  is,  that  morality  is  independent  of  any  conception 
one  may  have  of  ultimate  being.  Between  a  man's 
ethical  belief  and  his  world-view  there  is  no  relation  of 
any  importance.  The  upholder  of  the  first  view  main- 
tains, that  the  connection  between  our  ethical  judgments 
and  ideals,  and  our  conception  of  the  real- world  of  funda- 
mental being,  is  one  of  mutual  dependence.  Our  ethical 
valuations,  our  ethical  standards  and  ideals,  are,  in  a  serious 
manner,  affected  by  the  world- view  we  hold.  The  valuation 
we  give  to  our  existence,  the  consciousness  of  duty,  the  recog- 
nition of  responsibility,  and  our  moral  faiths,  are  in  no 
slight  measure  determined  by  what  we  think  of  the  world 
reality  of  which  we  are  apart,  of  its  character  and  relation 
to  the  interests  and  aims  of  our  ethical  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  what  we  think  of  the  world  reality,  our  conception 
of  fundamental  being,  is  determined  by  our  ethical  valua- 
tions and  ideals.  We  are  impelled  to  conceive  the  basal 
reality  of  the  world  in  a  way  which  will  satisfy  the  demands 
of  our  moral  life.  Morality  is  our  supreme  interest,  we 
cannot  rationally  believe  the  nature  of  things  is  hostile  or  in- 
different to  these  supreme  values.  It  cannot  be  a  matter 
of  no  concern  to  our  moral  life,  whether  the  larger,  the  in- 
clusive reality  recognizes  and  supports  our  ethical  valuations 
and  ideals,   or  is  indifferent,  nay  perhaps  hostile  to  our 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  227 

ethical  endeavor.  It  surely  cannot  be  a  matter  of  no 
importance  to  us,  whether  in  our  moral  tasks  and  struggles 
we  believe  that  a  power  not  ourselves,  which  makes  for 
righteousness,  is  with  us,  or  whether  we  are  aliens  in  a 
world  that  knows  us  not. 

For  the  authority  of  duty,  for  the  justification  of  our 
devotion  to  moral  ideals,  we  must  look  to  a  larger,  a  higher 
reality  than  our  human  selves.  The  moral  order  we  did 
not  make,  it  is  something  not  ourselves,  and  without  the 
recognition  of  it  duty  loses  its  authority  and  its  support. 
In  short,  in  our  morality,  we  do  not  make  the  moral  order 
to  which  we  conform,  any  more  than  our  science  creates, 
instead  of  discovers,  the  order  of  nature.  The  order  of 
nature  makes  our  science  possible;  the  moral  order  makes 
our  morality  possible.  A  moral  universe  is  the  postulate 
of  our  moral  life. 

The  opposing  view  maintains,  that  ethical  values  are 
created  by  our  actions,  and  are  attached  to  those  actions 
and  to  their  motives.  Ethical  values  and  ideals  belong  to 
our  human  world,  and  they  are  not  affected  by  any  con- 
ceptions we  may  form  of  the  non-human  part  of  the  uni- 
verse. The  ways  of  the  cosmos  do  not  concern  us  in 
moral  action.  Whether  the  non-human  world  is  for  us, 
against  us,  or  indifferent  to  us,  has  no  significance  for 
morality.  Morality  is  a  human  production;  we  do  not 
ascertain  what  is  morally  good  by  first  ascertaining  or 
presupposing  the  goodness  of  something  not  ourselves; 
were  it  necessary  to  know  the  nature,  the  character  of  the 
world-being,  we  should  never  know  what  is  morally  good. 
It  is  only  after  we  have  come  to  know  what  is  good  that 
we  come  to  evaluate  the  universe  at  large,  if  we  do  so  at  all; 


228  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

and  what  we  find  to  be  ethically  good  Is  so,  because  it  affects 
in  a  certain  way  the  interests,  the  welfare  of  human  beings. 

No  metaphysical  belief  can  affect  this  valuation  of  our 
human  conduct.  Suppose  a  man  is  a  materialist,  he  is  not 
logically  bound  to  deny  ethical  values,  the  validity  of  moral 
judgments,  the  authority  of  duty,  etc.  The  only  change 
the  acceptance  of  materialism  need  make  in  his  view  of  our 
human  life  is  in  the  matter  of  the  duration  of  personal 
existence.  Materialism  does  involve  the  transitory  existence 
of  the  individual  bearers  of  the  moral  life;  but  this  shortened 
duration  of  personal  existence  does  not  necessarily  affect 
the  significance,  the  importance,  of  morality.  Nor  does 
the  opposite  world-view,  idealism,  give  to  our  ethical  judg- 
ments and  valuations  a  greater  interest  for  our  lives.  I 
am  not  at  all  dependent  upon  the  absolute  for  the  significance 
and  value  of  my  ethical  consciousness.  I  am  not  more 
ethical,  because  I  believe  in  a  divine,  trans-  or  super- 
human reality  than  I  would  be  did  I  believe  that  the  non- 
human  part  of  the  universe  is  a  most  undivine  sort  of  reality. 

Nor  are  the  motives  to  morality,  the  sanctions  of  duty,  in 
any  way  affected  by  one's  metaphysics.  Because  I  am  a 
materialist,  it  does  not  follow  that  I  should  lead  an  immoral 
life.  The  fact  that  I  accept  absolute  idealism  does  not 
constitute  a  reason  for  doing  right  instead  of  wrong  in  my 
conduct  toward  my  human  fellows.  If  I  confess  total 
ignorance  concerning  Ultimate  Being,  I  do  not  thereby 
absolve  myself  from  moral  obligation.  Whatever  makes 
our  actions  ethically  good,  is  the  sole  reason  we  should  give 
for  performing  those  actions;  the  only  ethical  motive  to 
their  performance.  If  there  is  no  God  who  takes  note  of 
my  deeds  and  discerns  my  secret  thoughts,  and  who  may 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      229 

reward  or  punish  me  according  as  my  deeds  are  good  or 
evil,  have  I  less  reason  for  doing  good  and  avoiding  evil 
than  I  would  have,  did  I  believe  there  is  such  a  Being  ?  Or, 
have  I  less  reason  for  doing  good  to  my  human  fellows  while 
I  live,  if  I  accept  the  world-view  which  has  no  place  for  the 
immortality  of  the  individual  ?  Is  it  not  a  purer  ethical 
motive,  to  desire  to  live  in  the  lives  of  others,  made  better  by 
our  influence,  than  to  desire  continued  personal  existence  ? 
We  will  leave  this  first  special  problem  with  the  suggestion 
that  the  bearing  of  one's  world-view  upon  his  solution  of 
the  problem  of  conduct  is  an  open  question.  Let  us  proceed 
to  the  second  of  the  special  problems  in  ethics. 

The  Problem  of  Free-will 

It  may  be  doubted  that  there  is  any  question  in  philosophy 
which,  despite  all  the  discussion  and  controversy  to  which 
it  has  given  rise,  remains  in  so  unsatisfactory  a  condition  as 
this  question  relating  to  our  freedom  in  moral  action.  The 
issue  itself  between  philosophers  who  maintain  what  they 
conceive  to  be  free-will,  and  those  who  deny  what  they  under- 
stand free-will  to  mean,  is  by  no  means  clear.  The  term 
freedom  has  different  meanings;  the  following  are  some  of 
them: 

(1)  The  absence  of  external  restraint  or  compulsion,  the 
ability  of  a  person  to  do  what  he  wills  to  do ;  to  act  out  his 
own  nature. 

(2)  The  ability  to  act  from  rational  motives,  instead  of 
impulses,  appetites,  or  passions.  To  determine  one's 
conduct  by  reason,  by  conscience.  Freedom  is  ability  to 
do  one's  duty,  to  determine  one's  conduct  by  moral  law; 


230  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

**When  duty  whispers  low  *Thou  must! 'the  youth  replies 
*I  can!'  " 

(3)  Freedom  means  the  ability  to  act  otherwise,  or  to 
have  acted  otherwise,  in  a  given  situation,  than  one  did  act 
or  is  acting  in  that  situation.  Now,  those  who  reject  free 
will  accept  the  third  meaning  of  that  term ;  and  they  oppose 
to  this  conception  of  the  will  the  conception  of  determin- 
ism, the  essential  meaning  of  which  is,  that  human  actions 
are  so  related  to  certain  antecedent  conditions  that,  given 
those  conditions,  this  particular  action  and  no  other  action 
invariably  follows.  In  short,  human  actions  follow  from 
their  antecedent  conditions  with  the  same  undeviating 
regularity  as  events  in  nature  follow  from  definite  antece- 
dents. We  say  of  a  physical  event,  given  as  known  the  sum 
total  of  all  the  conditions  in  which  it  occurs,  that  event  and 
no  other  was  certain  to  occur,  and  could  have  been  pre- 
dicted. We  can  likewise  say  of  a  human  action  given 
as  known  the  character  of  the  actor,  and  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  acts,  his  deed  is  certain  and  as  predictable  as  a 
physical  event.  Whoever  should  know  the  antecedent 
and  contemporaneous  conditions  in  which  a  choice,  a  de- 
cision, is  made,  could  as  infallibly  predict  that  choice  as  the 
astronomer  predicts  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  at  a  given  time. 
The  only  reason  why  human  actions  are  incalculable  and 
seem  to  be  contingent,  is  that,  owing  to  the  complexity  of 
their  determining  conditions,  no  human  intelligence  can 
embrace  them  all,  or  even  more  than  a  small  part  of  these 
influential  circumstances. 

Now,  in  opposition  to  this  doctrine,  the  upholder  of  free- 
will must  maintain  the  contingent  character  of  human  actions. 
He  must  assert  that  a  choice,  a  decision,  is  not  determined. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  2S1 

its  occurrence  not  certain,  until  it  has  been  made  certain. 
Prior  to  this  particular  choice  or  action  there  was  nothing 
which  determined  that  this  and  not  that  choice  should  be 
made,  and  consequently,  even  supposing  a  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  these  antecedent  and  contemporaneous  conditions, 
this  choice  could  not  be  known  in  advance  of  its  becoming 
fact. 

The  only  significant  issue  between  free-will  and  determin- 
ism turns  on  this  question,  are  human  actions  contingent 
events  ?  The  f  ree-willist  answers  this  question  in  the  affirm- 
ative, the  determinist  must  answer  it  in  the  negative.  In- 
asmuch as  a  contingent  event  is  an  un-deierm\ned  event,  this 
issue  may  be  stated  in  terms  of  determinism  and  indeter- 
minism.  The  term  indeterminism  is  preferable  to  free-will, 
since  it  is  free  from  ambiguity,  and  helps  to  clarify  the  issue 
between  the  two  doctrines.  The  doctrine  of  ethical  inde- 
terminism involves  the  assumption  of  a  universe  in  which 
there  are  absolutely  contingent  facts,  a  universe  that  has  in 
it  some  degree  of  loose  play,  a  universe  that  is  in  part  in- 
determinate. This  assumption  means  that  there  are  abso- 
lute novelties  occurring  in  our  world,  fresh  increments  of 
reality,  positive  additions,  things  which  do  not  grow  out  of 
what  is  already  real,  but  are  creative  increments  upon  that 
reality.  In  short,  that  the  real-world  is  in  process  of  making, 
and  has  not  an  already  determinate  character. 

The  opposing  doctrine  of  ethical  determinism  involves 
the  assumption  of  a  universe  which  is  completely  determi- 
nate; in  which  therefore  there  can  be  no  contingent  events; 
in  which  there  can  be  no  real  additions,  no  absolute  novelties, 
or  increments  upon  reality  already  there.  The  determinist's 
real  world  is  not  in  process  of  making,  it  does  not  grow. 


232  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

The  student  will  see  that  the  so-called  free-will  dispute 
involves  the  doctrines  of  monism  and  pluralism.  We  have 
seen  that  monism  is  a  deterministic  conception  of  the  world, 
while  pluralism  is  indeterministic.  It  would  seem  then, 
that  whoever  upholds  the  doctrine  of  determinism  should 
also  maintain  the  monistic  conception  of  the  world;  while 
the  consistent  upholder  of  ethical  indeterminism  will  be  a 
pluralist.  I  do  not  wish  to  close  discussion  of  this  point, 
I  will  only  suggest  that  metaphysical  monism  logically  goes 
with  ethical  determinism,  and  pluralism  is  the  metaphysical 
doctrine  which  logically  goes  with  ethical   indeterminism. 

The  dispute  between  the  determinist  and  the  indetermin- 
ist,  being  primarily  a  metaphysical  one,  it  would  follow  that 
the  ethical  philosopher  who  accepts  the  doctrine  that  ethics 
are  independent  of  metaphysics  is  not  interested  in  this  old 
controversy.  He  should  maintain  that  neither  doctrine 
has  any  bearing  upon  the  problem  of  morality.  But,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  ethical  philosophers  are  still  engaged  in  this 
historic  dispute,  and  accordingly  we  must  include  this  con- 
troversy in  our  present  study.  The  central  point  of  the 
controversy  relates  to  the  consequences  for  morality  which 
follow  the  acceptance  of  either  of  these  doctrines  of  the  will. 
And  first  let  us  ask,  what  are  the  ethical  consequences  of 
determinism  ? 

The  indeterminist  is  ready  with  his  answer,  that  these 
consequences  are  most  injurious  to  morality.  He  asserts 
that  a  consistent  determinist  cannot  justify  his  ethical  valua- 
tions, that  the  distinctions  of  right  and  wrong  ought  to  have 
no  meaning  for  him;  the  ethical  judgment  should  be  im- 
possible; he  ought  not  to  accept  responsibility  for  his  own 
actions,  nor  hold  others  accountable  for  their  actions.     He 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  233 

should  neither  approve  nor  condemn  others,  nor  can  he  con- 
sistently advocate  the  infliction  of  punishment  for  wrong 
conduct. 

The  determinist  denies  that  any  of  these  consequences 
follow  from  his  doctrine;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  doctrine 
of  i/ideterminism  which  subverts  morality,  for  (he  argues) 
if  human  actions  are  contingent  they  are  without  reason  for 
being  at  all;  they  are  disconnected  from  other  parts  of 
reality,  and  therefore  irrational,  being  inexplicable,  and 
since  they  are  irrational  they  can  have  no  moral  value;  to 
call  them  good  or  bad  is  to  use  words  w^ithout  meaning, 
ethical  values  cannot  be  attached  to  such  things.  Further- 
more, he  continues,  indeterminism  makes  responsibility  im- 
possible, how  can  there  be  responsibility  for  what  is  by 
definition  contingent,  dependent  on  nothing?  Again, 
indeterminisn,  the  determinist  insists,  destroys  the  founda- 
tion of  moral  education,  moral  discipline  by  punishment. 
The  basis  of  moral  training  is  the  assumption  that  motives, 
reasons,  are  really  eiBcient  in  securing  desirable  conduct,  in 
discouraging  undesirable  conduct.  But,  if  human  actions 
are  contingent  these  motives  are  not  effective,  and  the 
sole  reason  for  instruction  and  discipline  is  taken  away. 
Thus  indeterminism  destroys  the  rational  foundation  of 
morality. 

On  the  contrar}%  the  determinist  contends  that  his  doc- 
trine is  not  only  compatible  with  morality,  but  that  it  is  the 
only  doctrine  which  is  compatible  with  our  ethical  valuations 
and  with  our  endeavor  to  maintain  morality.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  distinctions,  right,  wrong,  good,  and  bad. 
These  valuations,  says  the  determinist,  are  attached  to 
actions  because  of  their  bearing  upon  human  welfare,  and 


234  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

that  is  entirely  irrespective  of  their  being  determined  or 
indetermined  in  the  manner  of  their  occurrence.  An  action 
is  good,  if  it  expresses  the  intention  and  carries  out  the  in- 
tention to  promote  human  well-being.  The  goodness  of 
that  action  is  in  no  way  affected  by  the  fact  that  this  action 
followed  from  the  character  and  situation  of  the  man  who 
performed  this  act.  Again,  take  the  fact  of  approbation 
and  disapprobation;  the  justification  for  this  treatment  of 
an  individual  is  the  influence  this  expression  of  the  minds 
of  his  social  fellows  will  have  in  securing  the  performance  of 
good  actions,  and  the  prevention  of  the  performance  of 
bad  actions.  Only  on  the  assumption  that  approbation  and 
disapprobation  do  operate  as  real  determiners  of  actions 
can  they  be  justified.  It  is  on  ethical  grounds  that  the  pub- 
lic disapprobation  is  justified.  The  social  judgment  is  a 
potent  influence  in  determining  the  individual's  conduct, 
who  more  commonly  judges  his  actions  by  the  social  stand- 
ard than  by  a  standard  of  his  own  creation.  Morality  is 
largely  a  matter  of  social  action.  It  is  just  because  man's 
actions  are  determined  that  we  can  hope  to  change  them  by 
the  strong  determinant  of  social  judgment,  especially  when 
that  judgment  takes  effect  in  punishment.  Determinism 
alone  serves  the  great  interest  of  morality,  by  making  effec- 
tive the  encouragement  to  good  conduct  and  the  deterrative 
from  bad  conduct. 

In  this  way  will  the  upholder  of  determinism  defend 
his  doctrine  against  the  objection  that  it  is  incompatible 
with  our  ethical  judgments  and  our  enforcement  of  them. 

But  against  the  determinist's  position  the  indeterminist 
maintains  that  regret  and  disapprobation  lose  their  force 
if  determinism  is  the  true  doctrine.     The  sting  of  moral 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      235 

regret  is  taken  out  of  it  if  the  judgment,  *'It  might  have 
been"  is  illusive.  The  possibility  of  a  different  action  in 
the  place  of  the  one  disapproved  of  is  the  sine  qua  non  of 
disapprobation  which  has  any  ethical  significance.  I  can 
regret  something  which  was  fated  to  occur,  in  the  sense  of 
wishing  something  else  had  been  fated;  but  there  is  no 
ethical  character  in  such  a  regret.  The  fact,  that  mani- 
fested disapprobation  is  a  determinant  of  a  more  desirable 
kind  of  conduct,  does  not  justify  the  disapprobation,  unless 
the  action  disapproved  of  merited  that  disapprobation. 
Take  away  the  demerit  of  the  action,  and  the  disapproba- 
tion is  without  rational  ground.  To  take  away  the  possi- 
bility of  acting  otherwise,  is  to  take  away  from  that  action  its 
demerit:  and  this  is  what  determinism  does. 

(2)  Determinism  destroys  morality,  because  it  destroys 
moral  agency.  A  moral  agent  is  a  being  who  is  an  originat- 
ing center  of  action,  to  whom  an  action  can  be  carried  back 
for  final  judgment,  for  imputation.  In  the  system  of  deter- 
minism there  is  no  such  originating  agency;  only  in  appear- 
ance is  the  human  individual  such  an  originating  agency; 
in  reality  he  is  not  an  agent,  but  a  transmitter,  a  continuator, 
a  sort  of  distributing  center  of  determining  agencies,  or 
influences  which  have  their  origin  elsewhere,  and  only  pass 
through  him.  The  attempt  of  the  determinist  to  save  per- 
sonal responsibility  by  saying  that  the  individual  determines 
himself  in  his  action,  that  the  action  expresses  his  own  self 
or  character,  is  a  vain  expedient.  In  consistent  deter- 
minism, there  is  no  5eZ/-determination.  The  determining 
does  not  originate  in  this  self,  but  in  those  conditions  what- 
ever they  are,  which  have  made  this  self.  This  very  self 
is  a  resultant  of  the  sum  total  of  determining  agencies  and 


286  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

circumstances.  To  say  that  a  man's  character  determines 
his  action,  is  to  overlook  the  fact  that  in  this  scheme  a  man 
does  not  make  his  character,  and  that  whatever  makes  a 
man's  character  must  be  the  explainer  of  his  action. 

But  the  determinist  will  reply  that  there  is  imputed  to 
him  the  doctrine  of  fatalism,  and  that  doctrine  he  as  heart- 
ily repudiates  as  does  the  indeterminist.  Determinism  and 
Fatalism  are  totally  different  doctrines.  He  says,  *'I  fully 
admit  that  fatalism  is  incompatible  with  moral  responsibility, 
indeed  with  the  ethical  character  of  actions;  but  my  doctrine 
in  an  ethical  respect  is  as  far  removed  from  fatalism,  as  the 
East  is  from  the  West."  To  this  the  indeterminist  replies. 
"This  is  just  the  point  of  my  attack,  your  doctrine  is 
fatalism,  when  made  thoroughgoing  and  consistent.  For 
the  essence  of  fatalism  is  predetermination;  and  in  the  last 
analysis  this  predetermination  must  be  carried  back  to,  and 
lodged  in  those  first  things  which  once  laid  down,  carry  the 
certainty  of  all  later  things.  Therefore,  in  tracing  back  the 
determiners  of  human  action,  you  cannot  stop  with  the 
human  individual,  his  circumstances  at  the  time;  you  must 
go  back  to  his  inheritance,  to  his  ancestors,  back  also  to 
anterior  circumstances  which  determined  the  immediate 
circumstances  of  the  action.  And  where  can  you  stop  in 
this  regress,  short  of  those  first  things,  before  the  beginning 
of  time  ?  In  short,  every  fact  which  you  would  say  is  a 
determiner  of  this  present  action,  is  itself  but  a  link  in  a  chain 
of  determiners,  running  back  into  an  infinite  past,  or  away 
to  the  bounds  of  the  universe — if  it  have  bounds.  A  deter- 
ministic universe  involves  this  fate  of  the  individual  and 
his  action.  To  say  that  this  individual  act  was  determined, 
and  to  say  it  was  fated,  is  to  use  two  expressions  for  essen- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      237 

tially  the  same  thing.  If  therefore  moraltiy  is  incompatible 
with  fatalism,  it  is  equally  incompatible  with  determinism." 

With  this  last  objection  to  determinism  the  indeterminist 
returns  to  the  defence  of  his  own  doctrine;  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  doctrine  encounters  serious  difficulties 
when  confronted  with  facts.  Some  of  these  facts  have  been 
pointed  out  by  the  determinist,  namely  the  fact  of  moral 
education,  use  of  instruction,  correction,  etc.,  to  ensure  better 
conduct,  the  infliction  of  punishment  with  a  view  to  deter 
from  the  commission  of  socially  undesirable  actions.  To 
these  may  be  added  the  extension  of  the  law  of  habit  over 
our  moral  actions,  the  influence  of  character,  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  one  acts,  appetites,  passions,  the  solicita- 
tions and  suggestions  of  other  individuals,  in  short  the  entire 
context  of  each  action  we  perform.  Again,  the  fact  that  we 
predict  human  actions  with  a  considerable  degree  of  success, 
that  sciences  are  based  upon  uniformities  of  human  action. 
Now,  is  it  possible  to  harmonize  these  indisputable  facts 
with  the  theory  of  indeterminism  ?" 

The  indeterminist  answers,  *' These  facts  are  no  objec- 
tions to  my  theory  if  that  theory  is  rightly  understood.  In- 
determinism does  not  mean  that  there  is  no  determination 
in  that  part  of  the  universe  which  includes  our  human 
actions;  the  doctrine  asserts  the  existence  of  undetermined, 
of  contingent  things ;  and  it  asserts  that  there  is  contingency, 
indetermination,  in  the  case  of  our  choices,  or  our  actions. 
The  indeterminist  conception  of  the  universe  does  not 
mean  that  there  are  no  such  things  in  the  universe  as  uni- 
formities, habits,  coherency,  logical  consistency,  the  influ- 
ence of  one  thing  on  another,  of  mind  upon  mind.  The 
doctrine  denies  that  this  determination  is  absolute,  to  the 


238  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

exclusion  of  alternative  possibilities,  of  truly  open  points 
for  fresh  beginnings." 

"In   respect  to   our  actions,  indeterminism  asserts  that 
every  action  of  the  will  has  in  it  an  element  of  originality, 
something  not  contained  in  what  already  is  in  its  anteced- 
ents; and  therefore  that  particular  action  could  not  be  in- 
fallibly predicted,  even  did  some  mind  possess  complete 
knowledge  of  all  its  antecedents.     This  action  in  a  way  can 
be  explained  after  it  has  come  to  be  actual,  but  it  was  not 
forseeable  while  it  was  a  possibility.     Now  this  factor  of 
originality  which  carries  the  possibility  of  acting  otherwise, 
in  the  sense  that  this  particular  action  was  not  the  only 
possible  one,  coexists  with  other  factors  which  are  of  a  differ- 
ent nature;  they  are  such  factors  as  routine,  appetites, 
desires,  thought,  reasoning,  etc.,  so  that  our  actual  world 
presents  a  mixture  of  determination  and  indetermination, 
neither  of  which  is  the  absolute  feature  of  the  world.     Of 
course,  such  a  universe  cannot  be  the  closed  system  of 
monism,  for,  as  we  have  seen,  in  that  universe  there  can  be 
nothing    really    new;    and    consequently   that    universe    is 
through   and   through  deterministic.     But — concludes  the 
indeterminist — need  the  world   be  that  of   the   pluralist? 
May  there  not  be  room  for  all  the  indeterminism  which 
morality  calls  for  in  a  world  in  which  there  is  One  who  is 
Creator  and  Supreme  Ruler,  whose  will  is  done,  but  done 
through  wills  that  are  really  ours,  and  are  free  ?     No  thinker 
has  yet  shown  how  there  can  be  such  a  universe;  but  equally 
true  is  it,  that  no  thinker  has  demonstrated  its  impossibility. 
Such  being  the  state  of  our  knowledge,  are  we  not  free  to 
postulate  the  sort  of  universe  which  offers  the  most  satis- 
fying solution  of  the  ethical  problem?" 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  239 

The  Problem  of  the  Good  and  the  Ethical  End 

The  conception  of  good  presupposes  a  conscious  being; 
and  the  good  which  possesses  ethical  significance  presupposes 
that  the  conscious  being  is  man.  In  terms  of  human  con- 
sciousness, we  may  define  a  good  as  that  in  which  a  human 
being  finds  satisfaction.  It  is  the  object  of  desire,  which 
when  attained,  brings  a  satisfying  form  of  experience. 

We  first  note:  some  distinctions  in  good,  or  kinds  of 
good. 

v,  A  good  may  be  the  state  of  one's  own  being  or  self.  Thus 
pleasure  is  a  good,  so  is  intelligence,  power,  success,  virtue, 
etc.  A  good  is  anything  which  is  adapted  to  produce  a 
desirable  state  of  being.  Thus  wealth,  friends,  social 
position,  fortune  in  any  form,  are  goods — good  things. 
I  Again,  good  is  ultimate,  supreme,  or  relative,  proximate, 
subordinate.  Ultimate  good  is  that  which  is  good  in  itself 
considered,  good  on  its  own  account,  desired  for  its  own 
sake.  Relative  good  is  that  which  is  good  only  in  relation 
to  something  else,  good  for  something.  Thus,  pleasure  is 
regarded  by  some  ethical  philosophers  as  the  ultimate  good, 
while  knowledge,  wealth,  fame,  and  virtue  are  good,  be- 
cause they  conduce  to  pleasurable  consciousness. 

Once  more;  a  distinction  is  made  between  natural  good 
and  ethical  or  moral  good.  This  distinction  is  fundamental 
in  ethics,  and  at  the  same  time,  it  constitutes  a  problem  for 
the  ethical  philosopher.  Types  of  ethical  theories  are  dis- 
tinguished by  the  conception  of  the  moral  good,  or  moral 
goodness,  which  is  made  the  basis  in  each  theory.  For 
our  present  purpose,  a  distinction  in  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  is  suflicient,  and  it  may  be  made  in  the  following  way. 


240  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

We  can  give  the  predicate,  moral  good,  only  to  a  person,  to 
a  person's  character,  disposition,  motives,  and  actions. 
The  powers,  capabilities,  which  this  person  possesses  are 
natural  goods.  He  acquires  moral  goodness,  according  to 
his  use  of  these  powers.  A  person  is  not  morally  good  by 
nature,  the  person  becomes  morally  good  only  through 
action  and  by  habit.  The  morally  good  always  presupposes 
natural  good.  Unless  there  were  something  which  is 
naturally  good  there  could  be  nothing  which  is  morally  good; 
the  moral  good  is  created  by  the  exercise,  the  pursuit,  the 
use  of  natural  good.  It  is  the  function  of  ethics  to  de- 
termine in  what  way  the  pursuit  of  natural  good,  the  use 
of  natural  good,  creates  moral  good. 

One  more  distinction,  and  we  pass  to  the  special  problem 
which  gives  the  title  of  this  section.  The  term  good  in  its 
moral  signification  is  used  interchangeably  with  the  term 
right,  and  bad  with  the  term  wrong;  but  these  terms  reflect 
a  distinction  in  points  of  view,  and  point  back  to  ethical 
conceptions  which  are  quite  distinct  and  between  which 
the  distinction  is  not  unimportant.  Right,  in  its  ethical 
significance,  implies  an  authoritative  rule  or  standard  of 
judgment,  it  signifies  conformity  to  this  rule  or  standard. 
An  action  or  purpose  is  right,  if  it  conforms  to  this  rule  or 
standard;  an  action  which  does  not  conform  to  this  rule  is 
wrong.  Good  implies  an  end  or  result  which  the  action 
tends  to  reahze  or  to  produce.  A  good  action  is  one  which 
tends  to  produce  a  desirable  result,  and  is  adapted  to  attain 
some  end  that  is  good;  a  bad  action  is  one  which  has  the 
opposite  tendency.  Now,  these  two  ways  of  looking  at 
actions  and  of  judging  their  character,  characterize  two 
different  methods  of  determining  the  ethical  character  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      241 

conduct,  two  ways  of  judging  conduct.  The  one  is  forraal- 
istic,  the  other  is  teleological.  These  terms  very  clearly 
bring  out  the  difference  between  these  two  methods  in 
ethics.  Formalistic  ethics  makes  the  conformity  of  an 
action  to  a  rule,  or  law,  or  command,  the  criterion  of  its 
goodness.  Teleological  ethics  on  the  other  hand  makes 
adaptation  to  an  end,  to  a  result,  the  criterion  of  the  good- 
ness in  actions.  In  formalistic  ethics,  the  standard  of  judg- 
ment is  a  rule,  law,  command;  in  teleological  ethics  the 
standard  of  judgment  is  an  end,  to  which  the  action 
tends. 

But  a  more  important  difference  is  apt  to  be  associated 
with  this  difference  in  methods  of  ethical  judgment.  Form- 
alism in  ethics  may  go  farther  than  the  criterion  by  which 
the  judgment  is  determined.  Thus,  I  may  hold  that  my 
conscience  as  the  enouncement  of  moral  law  enables  me  to 
know  when  my  conduct  is  right;  but  1  may  hold  also  that 
this  conduct  is  not  ethicall}^^  good  merely  because  my  con- 
science, or  moral  law,  commands  it;  I  may  maintain  that  the 
goodness  of  the  action  consists  in  the  conduciveness  of  this 
action  to  welfare.  I  may  hold  that  action  derives  its  good- 
ness from  the  end  it  seeks,  and  not  the  rule  it  follows,  or 
the  law  it  obeys.  But  I  may  go  farther  in  my  formalism, 
and  maintain  that  the  goodness  of  my  action  consists  solely 
in  its  being  conformed  to  moral  law;  I  may  maintain  that 

my  action  is  good,  only  if  I  obey  moral  law  because  moral 
law  commands.  I  shall  therefore  say,  my  action  is  not 
good  because  it  is  adapted  to  an  end,  but  because  it  obeys 
a  law  or  a  command.  Thus,  formalistic  and  teleological 
ethics  may  signify  two  profoundly  different  types  of  ethical 
theory. 


242  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

But  it  is  time  to  close  this  preliminary  discussion  and  take 
up  our  problem,  the  good,  the  aim  of  life.  The  good 
which  the  problem  contemplates  is  ultimate  or  highest  good. 
And  our  problem  can  be  formulated  in  the  question,  What 
is  man's  ultimate  good,  the  ultimate  end  of  action,  and  the 
standard  of  ethical  value  ?  In  answer  to  this  question  we 
meet  three  theories : 

1.  The  theory  of  hedonism. 

2.  Energism,  or  the  theory  which  makes  perfection  of 
life  the  ultimate  good. 

3.  The  theory  which  makes  the  good  will  or  duty  for 
duty's  sake  the  highest  good. 

We  begin  with  the  theory  of  hedonism.  This  doctrine 
must  be  carefully  defined;  for  misconceptions  of  the  doc- 
trine have  been  at  the  bottom  of  much  of  the  adverse  criti- 
cism it  has  encountered.  The  general  doctrine  asserts,  that 
pleasurable  consciousness,  or  happiness,  is  the  ultimate 
good,  the  final  end  of  action,  and  the  standard  of  ethical 
judgment.  Hedonism  presents  two  forms,  according  as 
this  pleasurable  consciousness  is  that  of  the  individual,  or 
that  of  the  greatest  number  of  beings  whose  happiness  is 
considered  in  the  action  under  view.  The  first  form  of 
hedonism  it  is  customary  to  call  egoism,  or  egoistic  hedon- 
ism. The  second  is  more  commonly  called  utilitarianism; 
but  it  is  more  appropriately  called  universalistic  hedonism. 
The  egoistic  hedonist  maintains  that  the  only  maximum 
happiness  he  is  bound  to  take  as  his  ultimate  good  is  his 
own  happiness ;  that  he  can  regard  the  happiness  of  others 
so  far  as  the  promotion  of  their  happiness  is  a  means  to  the 
attainment  of  his  own  greatest  happiness,  or  only  so  far  as 
regard  for  the  happiness  of  others  does  not  interfere  with 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  243 

the  pursuit  of  his  own  maximum  happiness.  The  uni- 
versalistic  hedonist  or  utihtarian  asserts  that  the  greatest 
possible  happiness  or  pleasurable  consciousness  which  the 
individual  is  bound  to  consider  in  his  action  is  that  of  the 
greatest  possible  number  of  beings  who  can  be  affected  by 
human  action. 

It  is  the  general  doctrine  only  that  will  occupy  us  at 
present.  Let  us  get  the  meaning  of  this  theory  accurately 
determined.  The  hedonist  does  not  mean  that  this  maxi- 
mal happiness  is  always  or  should  always  be  the  conscious 
aim  of  the  individual  in  his  action.  The  individual  may  be 
unable  to  see  any  connection  between  the  particular  action 
he  is  about  to  perform,  or  is  contemplating,  and  this  greatest 
possible  happiness.  He  may  be  quite  unable  to  determine 
whether  an  action  he  is  about  to  perform  is  in  itself 
adapted  to  produce  more  happiness  than  misery;  and  conse- 
quently were  a  forecast  of  the  results  of  his  action  as  bearing 
upon  maximal  happiness  the  condition  of  his  acting  ethically, 
it  would  be  impossible  for  the  individual  to  act  wisely  in  any 
situation,  since  he  could  not  tell  whether  his  purposed  action 
would  be  a  good  or  a  bad  action.  The  theory  does  not 
mean  that  the  individual  is  to  guide  his  conduct  by  any 
connection  he  can  discern  between  that  conduct  and  greatest 
happiness.  The  end  by  which  the  individual  is  to  guide  his 
action,  is  the  proximate,  not  ultimate,  end;  such  ends  are, 
for  instance,  honesty,  veracity,  justice,  etc.,  or  rather  the 
moral  rules  which  enjoin  these  forms  of  action;  conformity 
with  moral  laws  or  customs  which  have  become  established 
in  the  society  to  which  he  belongs  may  be  the  proximate  ends 
at  which  the  individual  directly  aims,  and  by  which  he  deter 
mines  the  moral  quality  of  his  actions.     Established  moral 


244  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

rules  are  for  the  individual  in  moral  action  what  guide-boards 
are  for  the  traveller  who  knows  his  ultimate  destination, 
but  does  not  know  the  best  road  which  will  take  him  there. 
The  individual  may  seek  the  greatest  possible  happiness  as 
the  ultimate  good,  but  he  may  not  know  by  what  ways  of 
acting  he  can  attain  that  destination  of  his  will.  Moral 
rules,  the  recognized  virtues,  are  guide-boards,  which  tell 
him  the  sort  of  actions  which  are  best  adapted  to  reach  the 
end  he  seeks.  Therefore,  if  he  will  attain  the  ultimate  good, 
which  he  assumes  to  be  happiness,  he  must  give  his  attention 
to  the  guide-boards,  he  must  obey  moral  law,  practice  the 
virtues  of  truth,  honesty,  justice,  etc. 

Again,  hedonism  is  not  incompatible  with  the  fact  that 
the  individual  is  and  should  be  interested  in  other  things 
than  happiness,  that  he  may  come  to  value  other  objects,  and 
think  they  are  supremely  desirable  for  their  own  sake,  nay^ 
may  he  find  more  pleasure  in  the  pursuit  of  them  than  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  happiness.  The  individual  who  gives 
his  attention  almost  exclusively  to  the  moral  guide-boards — 
intent  upon  the  practice  of  virtues;  and  forming  the  habit 
of  obeying  moral  rules,  and  consequently  experiencing 
the  desirable  consequences  of  so  acting,  may  come  to  identify 
these  proximate  ends  with  the  ultimate  good,  these  means 
with  the  end,  so  that  he  transfers  the  interest  of  the  end  to 
the  means,  just  as  a  sportsman  may  come  to  find  the  pleasure 
of  pursuit  greater  than  the  pleasure  of  getting  the  game, 
and  he  may  say  he  hunts  for  the  sake  of  hunting,  he  fishes 
for  the  pleasure  of  fishing  and  not  in  order  to  catch  fish. 
But  the  hedonist  philosopher  maintains  that  when  we  sit 
down  in  a  cool  hour  and  reflect  upon  our  actions,  we  dis- 
cover that  their  conduciveness  to   happiness   is  the  only 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      245 

satisfactory  reason  that  can  be  given  for  performing  what 
we  call  good  actions,  and  the  only  thing  which  makes  our 
interest  in  them  a  rational  interest.  The  miser,  in  conse- 
quence of  habitual  association  of  money  with  his  ruling 
passion,  may  think  that  money  is  the  supreme  good,  and 
may  love  money  itself;  but  it  is  some  other  end  to  which 
money  is  a  means  which  justifies  his  interest  in  money. 
That  an  interest  in  something  which  is  not  happiness  con- 
trols conduct,  is  quite  compatible  with  the  theory  of  hedon- 
ism. The  theory  requires  that  we  keep  distinct  the  practical 
problem  of  means  and  the  problem  of  the  end.  The  essence 
of  the  hedonist's  doctrine  is,  that  our  human  existence  is 
ultimately  desirable,  because  of  the  pleasurable  conscious- 
ness it  yields,  and  that  our  actions  have  moral  quality  accord- 
ing as  they  tend  to  promote  this  kind  of  existence. 

We  come  next  to  the  proof  of  hedonism.  The  first  proof 
is  drawn  from  the  conception  of  human  welfare  or  well- 
being.  Reflective  analysis  of  our  meaning  when  we  think 
of  the  ultimately  desirable  kind  of  human  existence  leads  to 
the  discernment  that  this  ultimately  valuable  kind  of  exist- 
ence is  this  state  of  consciousness.  We  can  evaluate  other 
things  only  according  as  they  tend  to  issue  in  this  form  of  con- 
sciousness. Happy  consciousness  is  the  only  state  or  condi- 
tion of  being  in  which  our  rational  activity  can  come  to  rest. 
The  only  kind  of  experience,  be  it  action  or  state,  of  which 
we  cannot  ask  for  what  is  it  good,  or  why  is  it  good  and  de- 
sirable, is  pleasurable  consciousness.  Here  our  quest  for 
ultimate  good  ends,  because  it  has  reached  its  goal. 

The  second  proof  of  hedonism  is  the  fact  that,  if  happi- 
ness were  to  cease,  if  no  beings  could  be  either  happy  or 
miserable,  there  would  be  neither  good  nor  bad  actions. 


246  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

Our  value  judgments  would  lose  their  basis.  The  inference 
from  this  fact  is,  that  it  is  their  conduciveness  to  happiness 
or  to  the  opposite  condition  that  gives  to  actions  their  good- 
ness or  badness. 

The  third  reason  in  support  of  hedonism  is,  that  this 
doctrine  affords  a  basis  on  which  alone  the  conflicting  judg- 
ments on  particular  actions  can  be  harmonized.  The 
discrepancies  in  ethical  judgments  which  we  encounter  in 
current  morality  are  readily  removed,  if  we  accept  the  hedon- 
istic standard  of  ultimate  judgment.  The  method  of  pro- 
cedure by  which  in  the  morality  of  common  sense  we  do 
harmonize  discrepant  judgments  tacitly  presupposes  the 
hedonistic  criterion  of  good  conduct.  In  fact,  the  whole 
body  of  moral  rules  which  make  up  current  morality  is  in- 
telligible and  tenable  only  if  these  rules  or  laws  are  inter- 
preted as  middle  axioms,  which  define  the  form  of  conduct 
or  kind  of  actions  through  which  maximal  happiness  can 
be  secured.  Our  accepted  moral  rules  and  standards  sup- 
port the  theory  of  hedonism. 

Their  origin  is  best  explained  if  we  assume  that  hedonistic 
valuation  has  led  to  the  selection  of  these  forms  of  conduct 
as  the  forms  which  are  best  adapted  to  attain  maximal 
happiness. 

OBJECTIONS  TO  THE  THEORY  OF  HEDONISM 

Hedonism,  though  it  is  upheld  by  some  of  the  ablest 
ethical  philosophers,  has  never  gained  popular  support; 
and  it  has  against  it  the  larger  number  of  philosophical 
thinkers.  The  following  are  perhaps  the  most  serious 
diffixiulties  which  the  theory  encounters. 

First,  it  is  objected  to  this  theory  that  the  only  consistent 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  ^47 

form  of  hedonism  is  egoism.  _The  theory  which  makes 
pleasure  the  ultimate  good,  logically  leads  to  a  selfish  theory 
of  life.  There  is  no  reasoning  by  which  the  egoist  can  be 
convinced  that  it  is  his  duty  to  regard  anybody's  happiness 
but  his  own.  He  can  be  led  to  see  that  it  is  his  interest  to 
promote  the  happiness  of  his  fellowmen,  if  he  would  secure 
a  maximum  of  happiness  for  himself.  Society,  by  its  favor 
and  disapprobation,  may  so  affect  the  individual  who  is 
disposed  to  seek  his  own  well-being  only,  that  the  welfare  of 
others  may  become  an  interest  for  him.  But,  that  interest 
is  not  an  interest  in  the  happiness  of  others  on  their  account, 
but  solely  on  his  own  account.  The  egoist  reasons  in  this 
way:  If  the  greatest  possible  happiness  is  the  ultimate  good, 
this  end  is  more  likely  to  be  attained  if  each  individual  makes 
his  own  happiness  his  end  than  it  would  be,  did  each  make 
the  happiness  of  others  his  end,  because  the  individual 
knows  better  what  will  secure  his  own  happiness  than  he  can 
possibly  know  what  will  promote  the  happiness  of  others. 
How  then  can  the  egoist  be  reasonably  convinced  that  it  is 
his  duty  to  seek  universal  happiness  as  the  ultimate  good, 
and  not  his  own  happiness  ?  Such  is  the  first  objection  to 
hedonism. 

Against  this  reasoning  the  utilitarian  maintains  that, 
since  the  greatest  possible  happiness  is  the  ultimate  end,  the 
happiness  of  one  individual  is  worth  no  more  than  the  happi- 
ness of  another.  Each  individual  counts  for  one,  and  no 
one  counts  for  more  than  one,  in  the  distribution  of  happi- 
ness. The  egoistic  hedonist,  consequentlv,  contradicts 
the  fundamental  doctrine  of  hedonism,  which  does  not 
permit  the  indi\^dual  to  value  his  own  happiness  more 
highly  than  the  happiness  of  others.     The  egoist  if  he  re- 


248  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

mains  a  hedonist  cannot  justify  the  supreme  value  he  puts 
upon  his  own  happiness. 

The  second  objection  which  is  made  to  hedonism  is  to 
this  effect;  consistent  hedonism  can  recognize  no  difference 
in   the   quahty  of   pleasure.     The  theory  permits   only  a 
quantitative   estimation   of   pleasure,   only   a   quantitative 
scale  of  valuation;  one  pleasure  should  be  preferred  to  an- 
other pleasure  solely  because  it  is  greater  in  amount,  not 
because  it  is  better  in  kind.     Now,  the  hedonist  cannot  admit 
that  pleasures  differ  in   quality  without  surrendering  his 
fundamental  position;  for,  to  say  that  the  pleasure  A  is  a 
better  sort  of  pleasure  than  the  pleasure  B,  or  that  it  is  a 
higher,  a  nobler  pleasure,  involves  the  reference  to  a  stand- 
ard of  valuation  which  is  itself  not  pleasure;  and  that  in- 
volves the  admission  that  something  is  ultimately  valuable 
which  is  not  pleasure.     Now,  the  denial  of  a  qualitative 
difference  in  pleasures  goes  squarely  against  universal  judg- 
ment.    One  of  the  clearest  distinctions  we  make  in  our  valu- 
ations is  that  between  kinds  of  happiness.     We  unhesitat- 
ingly say  the  pleasure  of  a  man  is  more  desirable  than  the 
pleasure  of  a  pig,  even  did  the  pig  have  the  larger  amount 
of    pig    satisfaction.     Everybody   assents  to   John  Stuart 
Mill's  dictum,  **It  is  better  to  be  a  man  unsatisfied,  than  a 
satisfied  pig."     Who  would  not  prefer  the  lot  of  a  Socrates 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  happiest  pig  that  ever  grunted  in  his 
complete  pig  satisfaction  ? 

Opponents  of  hedonism  have  seen  in  this  objection  a 
fatal  dilemma  for  the  hedonist.  If  he  rejects  the  qualitative 
difference  in  pleasures,  he  must  run  against  the  surest  fact 
in  our  ethical  valuations.  If  he  admits  this  qualitative 
difference,  he  logically  abandons  his  theory;  for  he  can  jus- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      249 

tify  this  difference  in  kind  only  as  he  appeals  to  a  standard 
of  valuation  which  is  other  than  pleasure. 

But  cannot  the  hedonist  face  this  dilemma,  and  challenge 
the  proposition  of  the  objector?  **Why  cannot  pleasures 
as  pleasures  differ  in  quality  as  well  as  in  degree?"  the 
Hedonist  asks.  ''Why  cannot  one  pleasure  be  different 
irom.  another  in  its  quality^  just  as  one  sensation  differs 
from  another  in  its  quality  ?  Why  do  not  qualities  belong 
to  pleasures  as  pleasures,  as  definite  states  of  consciousness, 
just  as  qualities  belong  to  sensations  as  definite  states  of 
consciousness  ?  Does  the  anti-hedonist  reply,  That  which 
makes  one  pleasure  better,  or  higher,  than  another,  is  the 
better  function  or  power  which  yields  it,  the  better  mind, 
which  experiences  the  pleasure  ?"  The  hedonist  will  on 
his  part  maintain  that  the  function  is  better,  or  nobler, 
because  it  yields  a  better,  a  finer  pleasure,  the  function,  the 
power,  or  the  mind  is  evaluated  according  to  the  quality 
of  the  pleasurable  consciousness,  which  the  function  pro- 
duces, or  which  characterizes  the  person  we  call  the  better 
or  nobler  in  the  scale  of  valuation. 

Thus  does  the  hedonist  justify  his  assertion  that  pleasures 
can  differ  in  quality  as  well  as  in  quantity,  and  the  doc- 
trine of  Hedonism  still  be  true.  But  at  this  point  the  hedon- 
istic theory  meets  a  third  objection.  This  objection  is,  that 
Hedonism  reverses  the  true  relation  between  the  good  and 
pleasurable  consciousness.  Hedonism  asserts  that  some- 
thing is  good,  because  it  produces  pleasure,  the  pleasure- 
producing  tendency  is  that  wherein  the  goodness  of  an 
action  or  an  object  consists;  whereas  the  relation  is  the  re- 
verse, something  is  first  good,  and  because  good  it  produces 
a  pleasurable  consciousness.     The  hedonist's  fallacy  is  this : 


250  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

since  good  is  the  object  of  desire,  and  the  satisfaction  of 
desire  is  pleasant,  this  pleasure  is  the  good  which  is  desired; 
whereas,  that  which  satisfies  desire  is  something  entirely 
distinct  from  the  pleasure  which  attends  the  satisfaction  of 
that  desire.  The  pleasure  is  not  that  which  satisfies  the 
desire,  but  the  sign  that  the  desire  is  satisfied.  Pleasure 
is  not  that  which  our  will  seeks  as  its  end,  but  the  indicator 
that  the  will  has  attained  its  end.  The  normal  functioning 
of  the  organism  is  pleasurable,  but  it  does  not  follow  from 
this  fact  that  pleasurable  consciousness  is  that  for  the  sake 
of  which  the  functioning  takes  place,  or  is  that  which  gives 
the  value  to  organic  actions. 

The  hedonist  meets  this  objection  by  the  straight  denial 
that  he  supports  his  doctrine  by  the  reasoning  attributed 
to  him.  It  is  not  from  the  fact  that  we  experience  pleasure 
in  the  attainment  of  the  object  of  desire  that  he  infers  that 
pleasure  is  the  object  of  desire,  nor  does  he  conclude  from 
the  biological  fact  that  the  normal  exercise  of  the  organism 
is  pleasurable,  that  pleasure  is  the  biological  aim.  The 
hedonist's  contention  is,  that  we  cannot  make  any  other 
form  of  good  than  a  felicific  consciousness,  an  ultimate  end 
of  rational  pursuit.  That  the  standard  of  ultimate  valua- 
tion is  pleasurable  consciousness.  And  the  reasons  in 
support  of  this  proposition  he  has  already  given.  The 
hedonist  accordingly  will  maintain  that  this  objection  does 
not  touch  his  position. 

But  what  looks  to  be  a  more  serious  objection  to  hedon- 
ism is  the  hedonist's  conception  of  pleasure,  or  better,  the 
way  in  which  the  hedonist  treats  pleasure.  The  substance 
of  this  fourth  objection  is,  that  the  hedonist  treats  pleasure 
as  if  it  could  be  dissociated  from  the  persons  whose  pleasure 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  251 

IS  being  considered;  as  If  a  pleasure  of  a  definite  amount  or 
kind  could  be  the  same  in  any  two  individuals.  The  hedon- 
ist appears  to  assume  that  pleasure  is  like  a  quantity  of 
goods,  which  can  be  divided  into  equal  parts  or  quantities, 
and  be  distributed  among  so  many  individuals.  The  hedon- 
ist apparently  supposes  the  happiness  of  persons  can  be 
made  an  end  apart  from  the  persons  themselves  who  are  to 
be  made  happy. 

"Happiness,"  the  objection  continues  "is  not  something 
which  can  be  considered  in  abstraction  from  personalities, 
and  when  we  include  persons  in  the  ethical  aim  we  must 
include  what  is  not  happiness,  but  that  which  gives  to  happi- 
ness its  meaning  and  value.  It  is  the  persons  who  are 
happy,  and  not  happiness  apart  from  these  persons,  which 
ethical  theory  must  make  fundamental  in  determining  the 
significance  of  pleasure,  and  its  place  in  a  rational  scheme 
of  life." 

The  hedonist  can  say  in  answer  to  this  objection:  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  individuals  differ  in  respect  to 
the  sources  of  their  happiness,  so  that  no  two  individuals  are 
happy  for  just  the  same  reasons,  it  is  the  happiness  of  each 
individual  which  is  the  ultimately  desirable  thing  for  that  in- 
dividual, and  the  standard  by  which  he  must  rationally 
value  all  other  things.  It  is  important  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  hedonist's  doctrine  of  value  and  the  hedonist's 
method  by  which  he  would  practically  realize  his  ideal. 
The  objection  last  made  does  not  affect  the  theory  of  value, 
since  that  only  asserts  that  maximum  happiness,  however 
it  may  be  obtained,  is  the  ultimate  good.  Whatever  force 
the  objection  has,  must  be  in  its  bearing  upon  the  hedonistic 
method  of  obtaining  maximum  happiness.     Nor  is  it  true 


252  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

that  hedonism  as  a  method  needs  to  make  the  sort  of 
assumption  or  to  proceed  in  the  manner  which  the  objection 
alleges.  The  practical  problem  for  the  hedonist  is  to 
ascertain  in  what  way  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest 
number  can  best  be  secured.  The  hedonist  does  not 
suppose  this  happiness  can  be  secured  in  disregard  of  the 
persons  themselves,  their  individualities  of  temperament, 
mode  of  life,  circumstances  and  ideals.  No  hedonist  pro- 
poses to  make  happiness  dissociated  from  human  individuals 
a  practical  aim.  Experience  has  taught  man  to  some  ex- 
tent in  what  ways  happiness  can  be  attained;  the  hedonist 
follows  these  ways.  As  fast  as  man  by  experience  in  living 
with  his  fellows  shall  find  out  other  or  better  ways  in  which 
this  maximum  happiness  of  all  can  be  provided  the  hedonist 
will  adopt  these  ways.  He  is  willing  to  admit  that  he  is  far 
from  the  satisfactory  solution  of  the  practical  problem,  how 
to  bring  to  all  the  ultimate  good.  But  this  very  imperfect 
realization  of  the  ethical  ideal  is  no  objection  to  the  ideal 
itself.  It  can  well  be  true,  that  happiness  is  our  being's 
end  and  aim,  though  we  come  very  far  short  of  its  attain- 
ment. The  hedonist  concludes  concerning  this  last  ob- 
jection that  his  theory  is  in  no  manner  affected  by  it,  and 
as  an  objection  to  his  method  it  is  not  relevant,  since  his 
method  does  not  involve  the  false  assumptions  that  are 
credited  to  his  doctrine. 

But  hedonism  must  face  one  more  objection.  It  is  this. 
The  theory  of  hedonism  is  contradicted  by  the  testimony 
of  all  great  literature,  of  the  biographies  of  great  men,  by 
the  deeds  of  the  heroes  and  martyrs  of  the  race.  Human 
nature  in  its  great  moments,  in  its  great  achievements  in  art, 
in  literature,  and  in  history,  has  been  impelled  by  other 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      253 

motives  than  regard  for  happiness  either  of  the  individual 
or  the  happiness  of  the  race.  The  splendid  heroisms  the 
sublime  devotion  to  principles,  to  great  causes,  which 
command  our  admiration  and  reverence  have  been  possible 
only  because  the  hero,  the  martyr,  valued  something  higher 
than  happiness  either  for  himself  or  for  others.  The  lesson 
borne  in  from  man's  life  in  the  past  is  that  a  higher  than 
happiness  has  called  out  from  him  all  his  greatest,  his 
noblest,  his  most  beneficent  actions.  The  highest  happiness 
has  come  to  the  individual  and  to  others,  only  when  the 
individual  has  aimed  at  something  other  than  happiness 
for  himself  and  for  others.  The  hedonist  has  the  great 
experience  of  the  race  against  him. 

The  hedonist  will  for  answer  to  this  objection  content 
himself  with  a  single  question,  *' Suppose  the  cause  in  which 
the  hero  fights  or  the  martyr  dies  was  one  which  brought 
only  misery  to  mankind,  suppose  the  ideal  of  the  best  life 
which  we  find  in  art  or  in  literature  was  adapted  only  to 
cause  unhapplness  were  it  real,  would  we  justify  the  devo- 
tion and  the  sacrifice  of  the  hero  and  the  martyr,  or  would 
we  approve  of  the  ideal  presented  in  a  work  of  art  or  in 
literature  ?  K  we  could  not  do  this,  how  can  the  inference 
be  avoided  that  when  w^e  come  to  final  valuation  and  ulti- 
mate good,  happiness  of  life  is  that  good  ?" 

But  it  is  time  to  pass  on  to  the  second  ethical  theory,  the 
theory  which  makes  the  realization  of  human  capabilities 
the  ultimate  good  and  the  aim  of  life.  According  to  this 
theory  it  is  life  itself,  the  exercise  and  the  perfection  of  it 
through  the  exercise  of  living  functions,  in  which  man's 
good  consists.  Energism  is  one  name  for  this  doctrine, 
since  the  essential  feature  of  it  is  the  emphasis  put  upon  the 


254  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

activity  side  of  our  life.  Good  does  not  primarily  consist  in  a 
state  of  conscious  existence,  nor  in  a  kind  of  consciousness, 
whether  felicific  as  hedonism  supposes  or  otherwise,  but  in 
action,  and  in  the  unfolding  and  perfection  of  our  nature. 
In  short,  ultimate  good  consists  in  the  fullness  of  life  and 
in  the  exercise  of  life.  Self-realization  is  another  name  for 
this  doctrine;  but  this  term  requires  modification  in  the 
customary  meaning  of  it,  otherwise  it  would  designate  a 
doctrine  of  egoism.  The  Self  whose  realization  constitutes 
the  good  is  not  that  of  the  individual  only,  but  a  self  which  is 
common  to  this  individual  and  all  other  selves.  Accord- 
ing to  this  meaning  of  the  self,  the  individual  cannot  set 
before  himself  his  own  ultimate  good,  without  also  setting 
before  himseK  as  the  good  he  is  bound  to  realize  the  good 
of  every  other  individual  self.  No  one  can  find  his  own 
true  good,  who  does  not  find  it  in  a  good  which  is  com- 
mon to  him  and  all  other  selves.  To  make  the  most  of  one's 
self  and  of  other  selves  is  the  meaning  of  this  doctrine, 
stated  in  terms  of  self-realization. 

So  much  for  the  meaning  of  the  theory.  In  proceeding 
to  discuss  this  doctrine,  we  note  first  its  relation  to  hedon- 
ism. This  theory  gives  a  place  to  happiness  as  a  constituent 
of  ultimate  good;  happiness  is  the  normal  attendant  and 
result  of  the  exercise  and  development  of  life,  but  it  is  not 
happiness  which  gives  to  life  its  supreme  value.  Even 
were  it  true  for  every  individual,  that  the  complete  develop- 
ment of  himself  brought  with  it  complete  happiness,  the 
worth  of  his  life  would  not  be  measured  by  that  happiness, 
rather  would  it  be  the  value  of  his  developed  life  which 
would  determine  the  value  of  his  happiness. 

But  this  theory  of  the  good  encounters  difficulties  which  its 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      255 

ad  vocates  generally  have  not  seriously  considered .  The  first 
is  this :  The  theory  can  make  no  clear  and  distinct  separa- 
tion between  the  end  itself,  and  the  means  by  which  the  end 
is  to  be  attained.  The  same  thing  is  alternately  means  and 
end.  If  the  question  is,  **  What  is  the  end  of  life  ?"  the  an- 
swer must  be,  "Its  own  complete  realization  or  fulfillment." 
When  asked  what  are  the  means  by  which  this  realiza- 
tion is  to  be  affected  the  answer  must  be  in  terms  of  the 
same  capabilities,  the  realization  of  which  constitutes  the 
end  or  the  good  sought.  The  upholder  of  this  doctrine  does 
not  deny  that  to  some  extent  the  doctrine  involves  this 
circular  process  of  what  seem  to  be  alternate  means  and 
ends.  But  he  points  out  a  like  process  in  our  interpretation 
of  every  organism.  The  end  of  the  organism  is  the  harmo- 
nious and  complete  development  of  itself  or  its  species; 
the  means  by  which  this  end  is  attained  is  the  exercise  of 
the  same  functions,  in  whose  complete  realization  the  per- 
fection of  the  organism  consists.  The  fulness  of  life  is  the 
end,  and  this  end  is  attained  by  living;  but  in  reality  this 
fulness  and  perfect  development  of  life  is  not  identical  with 
the  mere  functioning  of  the  special  organs  taken  in  their  sum 
total;  it  has  a  meaning  and  a  value  which  is  entirely  distinct; 
means  and  end  are  not  identical  things  in  organic  develop- 
ment. So  with  the  moral  life;  end  and  means  do  not  coin- 
cide; we  can  say  that  the  relation  between  the  end  and  the 
specific  activities  by  which  the  end  is  attained  is  an  organic 
one;  but  this  final  stage  in  the  development  of  the  moral 
organism  is  the  end,  which,  existing  as  idea,  directs  the 
actions  by  which  it  is  to  be  realized,  and  as  ultimate  good  is 
the  standard  for  evaluating  each  activity,  each  exercise  of 
living  function  through  which  as  means  this  good  is  realized. 


256  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

But  we  meet  a  more  serious  difficulty  when  we  try  to 
define  the  regulative  principle  for  the  system  of  activities, 
the  different  modes  of  conduct,  in  which  this  self-realiza- 
tion consists.  Clearly  there  must  be  some  principle  of  this 
sort;  for  the  exercise  of  each  capability  or  power  cannot  be 
absolute,  some  limit  must  be  set  to  the  exercise  and  develop- 
ment of  the  special  functions  of  our  nature. 

The  development  sought  must  be  that  of  an  organism;  it 

must  be  the  systematic  and  harmonious  development  of  all 

our  human   capabiUties.     Now,  here  is  the  problem,   To 

find   the   regulative   principle,   or  conception,  which  will 

secure  this  system  of  duly  proportioned  and  harmonious 

actions.     How  shall  this  regulative  and  evaluating  principle 

be  found?     Shall  we  seek  it  in  some  one  of  our  human 

functions?     If  so,  which  one  shall  it  be?     Shall  we  fall 

back  upon  the  theory  of  an  innate  intuition,  an  a  priori 

principle,    as    the    rationalists    do?     We   have    seen    how 

futile  that  method  is.     We  can  no  more  assume  that  an 

ethical  intuition  or  a  priori  informant  enables  us  to  know 

when  we  are  on  the  right  road  to  our  moral  goal,  than  we 

can  assume  a  corresponding  intuition  to  guide  us  in  reaching 

the  goal  of   knowledge.     But  suppose  this  principle  has 

been  found ;  must  it  not  be  something  which  is  distinct  from 

the  special  powers  or  functions  themselves,  the  balanced 

and   harmonious    exercise   of   which   secures   the   moving 

equilibrium,  on  which  the  perfection  of  life  depends  ?     Here 

is  the  advantage  which  hedonism  possesses.     It  supplies  a 

regulative  principle  and   a  standard  of  relative  evaluation. 

Happiness  as  the  end  is  clearly  distinct  from  the  activities, 

or  conduct,  by  which  it  is  produced;  it  can  therefore  be  a 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  257 

regulative   principle  for  determining  the  relative  value  of 
each  special  function  and  in  its  exercise. 

Now,  if  this  theory  we  are  examining  does  have  a  regulative 
principle  which  is  distinct  from  the  exercise  of  functions, 
of  life,  must  it  not  be  this  something,  whatever  it  is,  and  not 
the  mere  living  itself,  which  is  also  the  standard  of  value 
and  consequently  is  itself  the  ultimate  good  ?  The  advocate 
of  the  Self-realization  theory  can  reply.  That  it  would  be 
perfectly  consistent  to  take  happiness  as  the  regulative 
principle  in  question;  for,  assuming  that  maximal  pleasure 
coincides  with  the  perfection  of  life,  the  perfect  exercise  of 
living  functions,  this  happiness  would  be  the  criterion  of  the 
right  and  successful  exercise  of  life;  it  would  be  the  sign 
that  life  had  attained  its  goal,  its  ultimate  good;  but  it 
would  not  follow  that  this  happy  consciousness  is  itself  the 
end  or  the  ultimate  good.  The  difference  between  hedon- 
ism and  this  theory  is  in  their  interpretation  of  happiness, 
its  significance  in  the  ethical  life,  hedonism  making  happi- 
ness the  goal,  while  the  perfection  theory  makes  it  the  sign 
that  the  goal  has  been  reached. 

We  come  now  to  the  third  conception  of  the  good,  the 
theory  which  holds  that  ultimate  good  is  the  good  will,  the 
goodness  of  this  will  consisting  in  its  obedience  to  moral  law, 
solely  because  moral  law  commands  this  unconditional 
obedience.  Duty  for  duty's  sake  is  another  name  for  this 
theory.  The  difference  between  this  conception  of  morality, 
and  the  conception  which  the  other  two  theories  share,  is  a 
radical  one.  The  other  theories  are  teleological;  the  pecul- 
iarity of  this  third  theory  is  its  attempt  to  make  the  form  of 
action  its  goodness,  and  the  end  of  action.  It  is  the  attempt 
to  unite  a  teleological  meaning  of  conduct  with  formalistic 


258  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

ethics.  The  theory  we  are  now  to  examine  is  that  of  Kant, 
whose  famous  dictum  of  the  good  will  is  famihar  to  all 
students  in  ethics.  Kant  declares  that  the  only  thing 
which  is  absolutely,  unconditionally  good,  in  this  world  or 
any  other,  is  the  good  will.  This  will  is  good  in  and  of 
itself,  and  not  because  of  anything  which  it  produces,  or 
any  consequences  which  flow  from  it.  In  answer  to  the 
question,  what  makes  the  will  good,  the  Kantian  answer  is, 
the  conformity  of  this  will  to  moral  law,  or  the  categorical 
imperative  of  duty.  It  is  obedience  to  moral  law  because 
it  is  moral  law,  and  therefore  from  the  sole  motive  of  duty, 
which  makes  the  will  good.  Now  it  is  this  goodness  of 
the  will,  or  the  character  of  the  person  which  consists  in 
the  disposition  to  obey  moral  law  or  to  do  always  one's 
duty  for  duty's  sake,  which  is  at  the  same  time  the  ultimate 
good,  the  end  which  man  should  set  before  himself  for 
complete  realization. 

In  discussing  this  theory  of  morality,  we  will  begin  with 
an  interesting  feature  it  presents,  namely,  the  pecuHar  place 
it  gives  to  happiness  in  the  moral  life.  Happiness  being  a 
natural  good,  something  which  all  human  beings  do  seek, 
the  pursuit  of  it  cannot  be  moral  good,  nor  its  opposite, 
i.e.,  it  cannot  have  moral  significance.  And  yet  morality  is 
concerned  with  happiness.  In  three  ways  does  the  good 
will  have  to  ^do  with  this  universal  human  interest.  (1) 
Inasmuch  as  happiness  is  a  natural  good,  in  which  man 
naturally  seeks  satisfaction,  happiness  may  make  it  easier 
to  fulfill  the  law  of  duty,  a  happy  life  may  be  more  eflacient 
in  virtue,  and  therefore  it  is  a  part  of  the  obedience  to  moral 
law  to  seek  happiness  for  one's  self  and  for  others. 

(2)  Again,  happiness  being  so  large  an  interest,  our  action 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      259 

Is  largely  occupied  in  securing  happiness,  and  we  cannot  avoid 
affecting  each  other's  well-being,  according  as  we  aid  or 
interfere  with  the  attainment  of  this  natural  good.  Conse- 
quently, moral  law  commands  that  no  one  seek  happiness 
for  himself,  if  by  so  doing  he  diminishes  the  happiness  of 
his  fellowmen. 

(3)  Since  happiness  is  a  natural  good,  without  which 
human  life  is  not  completely  satisfied,  the  complete  good  of 
man  must  include  happiness  as  a  constituent  part.  Now 
the  happiness  which  is  essential  to  the  complete  good  is 
happiness  that  is  proportional  to  moral  desert.  It  is  that 
which  must  be  added  to  righteousness  to  give  blessedness. 
The  morally  good  man  cannot,  by  his  own  powder  or  by  his 
good  will,  make  himself  happy  in  proportion  to  his  desert 
of  happiness;  all  he  can  do  as  a  moral  agent,  is  to  create 
goodness,  and  to  merit  happiness.  The  moral  order  of 
the  world  alone  can  unite  happiness  and  goodness  in  the 
personal  life.  But  if  a  man  makes  himseK  worthy  of  happi- 
ness, he  can  rationally  expect  to  become  as  happy  as  he 
deserves  to  be;  he  can  trust  the  moral  order  of  the  world 
sometime,  if  not  in  this  life,  in  the  life  after  death,  to  give 
to  his  life  this  necessary  completion. 

Examining  this  theory  more  closely,  we  shall  find  that  the 
most  serious  difficulty  it  encounters  springs  from  its  form- 
allstic  conception  of  morality.  The  moral  law  is  without 
content.  The  categorical  imperative  does  not  tell  us  what 
it  is  our  duty  to  do.  Merely  to  be  told  that  we  must  obey 
moral  law,  or  do  our  duty,  does  not  enlighten  us  in  the  most 
important  matter,  namely,  what  we  are  to  do  in  obepng 
moral  law.  We  ask.  What  does  moral  law  command  ? 
and  it  is  no  answer  to  this  question  to  be  told  that  it  com- 


260  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

mands  us  to  obey  moral  law;  that  is  mere  tautology.  Or, 
suppose  our  question  is,  What  is  the  ultimate  good  ?  We 
are  answered,  The  goodness  of  the  will,  in  other  words  being 
good ;  and  if  we  ask,  how  are  we  to  attain  this  end  ?  the 
answer  must  be — must  it  not  ? — by  being  good.  Thus  are 
end  and  means  identical;  the  action  becomes  its  own  end, 
and  we  are  condemned  to  the  fruitless  labor  of  moving  in  a 
circle. 

The  Kantian  doctrine  seeks  to  obviate  this  difficulty  by 
means  of  what  may  be  called  the  maxim  of  duty,  which  is. 
Act  only  from  that  maxim  which  you  can  will  to  be  law  uni- 
versal. This  maxim  is  based  upon  the  assumed  universality 
of  moral  law,  i.e.,  on  the  assumption  that  what  is  duty  for 
one  person  in  a  given  situation,  would  be  duty  for  everybody 
in  that  situation ;  hence  the  maxim  affords  a  means  of  deter- 
mining whether  the  action  one  contemplates  in  a  particular 
situation  is  or  is  not  the  action  moral  law  commands.  To 
use  one  of  Kant's  illustrations:  Suppose  a  man  who  holds 
the  property  of  another  in  trust  should  be  inclined  to  appro- 
priate that  money  for  his  own  uses.  He  could  test  the  moral- 
ity of  the  proposed  action  by  asking  himself  if  he  could  will 
that  every  man  in  the  same  situation  should  do  the  same 
thing,  in  other  words,  could  he  will  that  the  maxim  he  pro- 
poses should  be  made  law  universal  ?  Thus  does  the  Kant- 
ian theory  seem  to  obviate  the  difficulty  we  have  raised, 
and  to  meet  the  objection  that  its  formalism  makes  it  im- 
practicable. The  moral  law  does  seem  to  supply  a  criterion 
of  duty,  it  does  seem  possible  to  know  when  we  are  obeying 
moral  law. 

But  is  this  maxim  susceptible  of  universal  application  ? 
Does  it  in  every  instance  afford  a  criterion  of  duty  ?     And  is 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      2G1 

the  assumption  on  which  it  is  based  an  unquestionable  one, 
namely,  whatever  it  is  right  for  one  man  to  do,  it  is  right 
for  every  man  to  do  in  the  same  situation  ?  To  recur  to 
Kant's  illustration  of  a  man  who,  overwhelmed  by  calam- 
ities, is  contemplating  suicide.  Might  it  not  be  right  for 
this  man  to  end  a  life  that  has  become  insupportable,  while 
it  would  not  be  right  for  every  man  to  do  so  in  the  same 
situation?  But,  granting  that  Kant's  maxim  of  duty  is 
not  open  to  this  criticism,  the  really  vulnerable  point  in  this 
theory  of  morality  is  still  its  formalistic  conception  of 
moral  good.  The  vulnerable  point  is  this:  The  theory 
must  assume  law  or  command  as  such  can  create  moral 
obligation  to  obey  it;  that  to  obey  a  law  merely  as  a  law 
creates  ethical  value;  that  something  is  right,  because  it 
is  commanded,  instead  of  being  commanded  because  it  is 
right.  This  assumption  is  untenable;  the  foundation  of  our 
distinctions  of  right  and  wrong  is  purely  arbitrary  on  this 
assumption;  and  a  rational  ground  of  obligation  is  im- 
possible. Unless  that  which  is  commanded  is  assumed  to 
be  right,  we  can  recognize  no  obligation  to  obey  that 
command.  Even  supposing  we  believe  the  command  to 
come  from  God,  our  obligation  to  obey  could  be  justified 
only  did  we  first  believe  God  is  good,  and  therefore  what 
he  commands  is  good.  The  whole  strength  and  per- 
suasiveness of  the  Kantian  doctrine  of  the  good  will,  or 
categorical  imperative  of  the  supremacy  of  duty,  is  derived 
from  this  unrecognized  assumption  of  a  good,  from  which 
law  derives  its  right  to  command,  and  from  which  comes 
our  obligation  to  obey.  The  conclusion  of  the  matter 
would  seem  to  be,  that  if  we  are  to  have  a  philosophy  of 
conduct  our  choice  of  theories  of  the  good  must  lie  between 


2G2  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

hedonism    in    some   form   and   the   theory   which    makes 
perfection  of  life  the  good. 

II.  THE  PROBLEM  OF  RELIGION 

We  have  now  concluded  the  problem  of  morality.  The 
last  of  the  problems  to  engage  our  study  is  the  problem  of 

religion. 

As  with  the  ethical  problem,  so  the  problem  of  religion 

breaks  up  into  several  special  problems.     Of  these  our  study 

will  limit  itself  to  the  examination  of  these  two  problems, 

namely:    (1)    The   essential    nature  of   religion;    (2)  The 

conception  of  God. 

The  Essential  Nature  of  Religion 

We  begin  with  the  problem  concerning  the  essential 
nature  of  religion.  It  is  the  task  of  a  philosophy  of  re- 
ligion, on  the  basis  of  the  results  reached  by  the  psychological 
and  historical  study  of  religion,  to  determine  its  essential 
nature,  its  meaning  and  significance  for  a  theory  of  the 
world. 

Analysis  of  religious  experience  discloses  in  it  the  three 
essential  functions  which  are  inseparable  in  all  mental  ex- 
perience, cognition,  feeling,  and  will.  And  according  as 
one  or  the  other  of  these  elements  is  preponderant,  the 
religion  of  an  individual  may  be  characterized  as  intellecj;ual- 
istic  or  emotional  or  voluntaristic.  The  fundamental  note 
of  religion  is  faith,  and  the  vital  element  in  faith  is  the  sense 
of  the  objective  reality  of  its  object.  '*He  that  cometh  to 
God  must  believe  that  He  is."  This  claim  of  truth  is  the 
cognitive  moment  in  religion.  But  religion  is  also  a  manner 
of    feeling.     Religion    involves   an   emotional   response  to 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  263 

God  not  less  than  an  intellectual  apprehension,  nay  the  deep 
roots  of  religion  are  in  our  feeling  nature.  The  throbbing 
heart  of  piety  is  worshipping  love,  trust,  submission  and 
loyalty. 

The  great  passions,  the  profoundest  emotional  stirrings 
of  our  nature,  are  religious.  "  God  is  the  sea  where  all  our 
passions  roll."  Not  less  does  will  enter  into  the  life  of 
religion.  The  w^ill  to  believe,  or  belief  because  our  voli- 
tional nature  demands  it,  is  one  of  the  most  indisputable 
facts  of  religious  experience. 

It  is  vital  to  the  conception  of  religion  to  recognize  the 
cognitive  moment.  It  may  be  doubted  if  definitions  of 
religion  which  are  apparently  framed  to  exclude  intellect  ' 
from  Religion  are  really  successful.  For  instance,  the  classic 
definition  of  Schleiermacher,  according  to  which  religion 
is  a  feeling  state,  namely,  the  feeling  of  absolute  dependence, 
really  implies  a  cognitive  attitude  toward  a  reality,  a  Being 
on  whom  we  are  absolutely  dependent.  Indeed,  Schleier- 
macher's  own  definition  of  religion  as  the  sense,  the  feeling, 
of  the  Infinite,  clearly  includes  the  cognitive  function.  One 
feels,  has  the  sense  of  infinite  reality,  only  as  one  asserts  it; 
and  assertion  is  a  cognitive  act.  The  importance  of  this 
recognition  of  the  cognitive  moment  in  religion  lies  in  the 
fact  that  unless  this  is  done  religion  becomes  a  subjective 
experience  only.  Now,  the  very  heart  is  taken  out  of  re- 
ligion, if  its  objective  significance  is  denied.  Faith  is  the 
central  fact  of  religion;  and  the  nerve  of  faith  is  the  con-  i 
viction  of  the  reality  of  its  object.  This  con\action  carries 
the  whole  movement  of  the  religious  life,  its  emotions  and 
its  practical  attitude.  This  consciousness  of  dealing  with 
a  reality,  a  Being  which  is  not  the  religious  man's  own  self. 


264  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

or  ideal  of  self,  is  the  living  spirit  of  religion.  No  one  is  so 
deeply  interested  in  the  objective  reality  of  what  he  believes 
as  is  the  religious  believer.  The  whole  value  of  God  to  the 
religious  mind  is  staked  on  the  fact  of  his  existence.  **  He 
that  cometh  to  God  must  believe  that  He  is,"  expresses  the 
fundamental  importance  of  this  element  of  objective  reality 
attaching  to  the  objects  of  the  religious  attitude.  Once 
convince  the  believer  that  the  object  of  his  faith  is  not  real, 
and  his  religious  life  languishes  and  dies.  The  conception 
of  religion  which  makes  it  a  worship,  a  devotion  to  an  ideal 
Self,  whether  that  of  the  individual  or  an  ideal  of  humanity, 
may  be  held  by  a  philosopher  of  religion,  but  it  is  demonstra- 
bly not  the  conception  which  the  religious  man  has  in  his 
actual  religious  experience.  A  thinker  may  maintain  that 
since  religion  has  no  objective  basis,  the  only  substitute 
for  it  is  either  a  cosmic  emotion  of  some  sort,  or  worship  of 
humanity,  or  the  worship  of  an  individual  ideal.  He  may 
hold  that  these  are  good  substitutes  for  religion;  that  religion 
belongs  to  an  outgrown  stage  of  man's  development;  but  no 
conception  of  religion  that  does  not  go  directly  in  the  face 
of  the  surest  deduction  from  the  facts  of  man's  religious 
history  can  resolve  religion  into  subjective  experience. 
But  if  it  belongs  to  the  essence,  the  essential  definition  of 
religion,  that  it  involves  the  recognition  of  objective  reality, 
then  the  cognitive  function  is  an  indispensable  moment  in 
Religion. 

But  if  it  be  a  fatal  defect  in  a  conception  of  religion  that 
it  overlooks  the  cognitive  side,  it  is  an  error  hardly  less 
serious  to  overlook  the  subordinate  function  of  intellect  in 
religion.  Religion  demands  and  claims  knowledge;  but 
the  knowledge  it  wants  and  needs  to  possess  is  not  that  of 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT     265 

the  philosopher.  The  reaHty  which  for  reHgion  must  stand 
secure  is  not  the  reahty  which  philosophy  seeks  to  grasp, 
or  which  science  tries  to  comprehend.  The  religious  inter- 
est in  the  world  reality  is  not  that  of  the  philosopher.  The 
motives  to  rehgious  believing  and  the  motives  to  philosophi- 
cal thinking  are  quite  different  things.  Religion  seeks 
truth,  knowledge,  for  the  purpose  of  effective  and  satisfying 
life.  Religion  needs  to  feel  that  the  Being  it  clings  to  in 
faith  is  able  and  willing  to  protect  our  lives  from  evil,  from 
destruction,  to  save  the  values  of  life,  to  reHeve  us  in  distress 
and  peril,  to  inspire  hope  in  despair,  give  comfort  in  sorrow, 
in  short,  to  save  man's  life  in  a  hostile  and  perilous  and 
destructive  universe.  Any  conception  of  the  Divine  which 
makes  it  capable  of  satisfying  these  religious  needs,  satis- 
fies the  religious  believer.  Religion  has  survived  profound 
changes  in  the  theoretic  conception  of  the  world;  and  it  will 
survive  further  changes.  Its  life  can  be  touched  only  if  it 
has  to  surrender  its  faith  in  Goodness  and  Power  in  the 
World-Reality  as  available  and  really  at  work  for  man. 
The  knowledge  religion  demands  is  Hmited  in  scope,  and 
wholly  practical  in  its  function.  The  oversight  of  this  fact, 
the  exaggeration  of  the  importance  of  the  intellect  in  religion, 
has  had  most  baneful  consequences.  Recall  the  history  of 
religious  wars,  of  persecutions,  of  mart}Tdoms,  of  sectarian 
strifes,  which  have  rent  Christianity,  and  one  appreciates  the 
seriousness  of  the  error  in  making  intellectual  belief  supreme 
in  religion.  The  lon^  and  bitter  conflict  between  religion 
and  science,  in  which  reHgion  has  always  suffered  not  only 
defeat  but  the  loss  of  the  respect  of  so  many  of  the  noblest 
minds,  and — a  sadder  result  still — has  lost  so  largely  her 
hold   upon   the   intelligence  of   our  modern   age,   all   this 


266  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

should  be  set  down  as  the  accident  of  a  mistaken  view  of 
the  function  of  intellect  in  the  religious  life. 

In  the  conception  of  religion,  greater  prominence  belongs 
to  the  feeling  and  to  the  will  elements  than  to  the  cognitive. 
Those  authorities  who  are  disposed  to  make  religion  essen- 
tially a  mode  of  feeling,  or  to  make  it  consist  mainly  in  ritual 
performances,  are  so  far  in  the  right,  that  the  satisfaction 
of  emotional  needs,  the  justification  of  emotional  attitude, 
motives  the  religious    thinking.     The  object  of  faith  is  in 
most  forms  of  religion  so  conceived  as  to  satisfy  and  to 
justify  the  exercise  of  certain  strong  and  dominating  emo- 
tions.    There  must  be  something  in  the  Divine  to  call  forth 
and  justify  fear,  reverence,  humility,  before  him,  and  trust- 
fulness toward  him.     He  must  have  such  a  nature  that  it 
can  make  a  difference  with  him  whether  the  worshipper  is 
joyous  or  sad,  hopeful  or  despondent,  penitent,  contrite, 
or  conscious   of   rectitude   and   loyality  toward   him.     So 
must  also  the  Divine  be  so  thought  that  he  can  be  influenced 
to  action  toward  man  by  what  man  does  toward  him,  in 
sacrificial  acts,  in  prayers,  or  in  obedience  to  his  commands. 
In  the  highest  stage  of  religious  development,  as  in  the 
lowest  and  presumably  earliest  stage,  the  gods  are  wish- 
granters,  hearers  of  prayer,  and  on  occasions  interpose  to 
deliver  their  servants  in  trouble  and  in  peril.     If  the  god 
no    longer    hears,    is    silent,    and    remains    unmoved    by 
appeals,  by  sacrificial  offerings  and  ritual  acts,  the  religious 
bond  between  the  worshipper  and  that  god  is  broken;  that 
being  ceases  to  be  god. 

Now,  while  this  is  true  in  the  great  majority  of  religious 
believers,  can  we  say  that  this  way  of  conceiving  the  Divine, 
and  his  relation  to  man,  is  indispensable  to  religion  ?     For 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  267 

instance,  can  we  deny  that  Spinoza  was  a  religious  man, 
whom  Schleiermacher  characterized  as  a  **  God-intoxicated 
man,"  ''full  of  Religion,  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  whom 
Religion  was  his  all  ?"  But  Spinoza's  God  hears  no  prayers, 
pities  no  sorrows,  hates  no  sinners,  and  loves  no  saint, 
in  return  for  love.  These  pathologic  states  are  im- 
possible to  the  All-perfect,  whose  nature  transcends 
whatever  is  finite  and  imperfect.  The  God  of  Spinoza 
needs  no  help  from  man.  He  is  not  affected  or  changed  by 
an^i:hing  which  man  can  do;  yet  Spinoza's  adoration  of  this 
Being,  this  Perfect  Universe;  his  amor  dei  intellectus,  his 
joyous  trust  and  perfect  resignation  to  the  Perfect  Whole, 
were  very  genuine  and  very  potent  in  their  influence  upon 
Spinoza's  whole  manner  of  living.  Can  we  deny  religious 
significance  to  the  attitude  of  these  men — and  they  are  not 
few — to  whom  God  is  only  the  ''Power  in  darkness  whom 
we  feel  .^"  Nay,  shall  we  say  that  Epicurus  must  have  been 
fundamentally  irreligious,  who  maintained  that  the  gods 
could  not  in  any  wise  be  concerned  in  the  affairs  of  our 
human  lives,  or  in  the  world-order,  which  is  so  indifferent, 
nay  so  hostile,  to  our  interests  ?  The  gods  of  Epicurus 
were  ideals,  models  of  the  life  man  may  admire  and  aspire 
to  possess.  That  there  are  such  beings  li\ing  lives  free 
from  want  and  care,  in  happy  perfect  sufficiency,  is  surely 
not  a  matter  of  no  interest  or  importance  even  to  men,  pro- 
vided they  attract  us,  and  move  us  toward  their  type  of 
being,  and  we  have  some  reason  to  hope  we  shall  attain  a 
like  kind  of  existence;  or  even  if  there  is  no  such  happy 
destiny  awaiting  us,  these  beings  make  a  difference  in  our 
lives  while  we  live.  And  are  the  differences  less  radical 
which  separate  the   Christian  form   of   religion  from  the 


268  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

religion  of  the  uncivilized  races,  or  even  from  polytheistic 
religions?  What  is  there  common  to  the  Christian  con- 
ception of  God,  and  the  conception  which  the  savage  has 
of  the  object  of  his  worship  ?  Or  what  feelings,  emotions, 
are  common  to  both  forms  of  religion,  or  what  forms  of 
conduct  are  alike  in  both  the  religion  of  the  savage  and  the 
religion  of  the  Christian  ?  The  question  which  is  forced  upon 
us  is,  is  it  possible  to  determine  what  is  the  essential 
nature  of  religion  ?  And  that  is  to  ask,  is  it  possible  to 
solve  this  first  special  problem  in  the  philosophy  of  religion  ? 
One  way  of  answering  this  question  is  to  say,  the  problem 
does  not  properly  belong  to  the  philosophy  of  religion,  but 
to  the  science  of  religion;  it  is  in  part  a  psychological  ques- 
tion and  in  part  belongs  to  the  historical  science  of  religion. 
The  philosopher  should  take  what  these  sciences  hand  over 
to  him.  I  think  the  philosopher  might  be  willing  to  do 
this,  had  the  psychology  and  history  of  religion  reached  a 
definite  conclusion  as  to  the  essential  nature  of  reHgion. 
Unquestionably  these  sciences  afford  the  only  data  there  are 
for  determining  what  the  essential  elements  of  religion  are; 
but  beyond  supplying  these  data,  it  does  not  appear  that  they 
have  yet  gone  in  giving  a  generally  accepted  definition  of 
the  essential  nature  of  religion.  Without  question,  it  is 
along  the  lines  laid  down  by  the  psychological-historical 
study  of  religion  that  we  must  proceed,  if  we  are  to  reach 
the  solution  of  our  problem.  It  is  true  also  that  tentative 
definitions  of  religion  have  been  given  by  psychologists  and 
historians  of  religion ;  but,  so  far  as  I  know,  no  one  of  these 
has  succeeded  in  finding  general  acceptance.  Nor  is  it  hard 
to  understand  why  there  has  been  so  little  success  in  detre- 
mining  the  essential  elements  of  religion,  when  one  realizes. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      269 

as  only  the  student  of  religion  does  fully  realize,  how  diffi- 
cult is  the  task  of  really  penetrating  the  religious  life  of 
peoples  who  have  left  no  religious  literature,  and  existing 
peoples  whose  expressions  of  religion  are  almost  entirely 
ritual — sacriJBcial  acts,  the  utterance  of  mere  formulae — or 
symbols  whose  meaning  can  be  only  dimly  divined.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  describe  and  to  classify  all  the  phenomena  of  a 
religion;  but  it  is  quite  another  undertaking  to  interpret 
the  thoughts,  the  feelings  and  purposes,  by  which  these 
outward  actions  are  accompanied,  or  which  are  embodied 
in  rites  and  symbolized  in  various  utterances  or  in  vjritten 
characters.  The  religious  life  cannot  be  separated  from  the 
general  life.  Religion  is  inseparable  from  man's  develop- 
ment; man's  religious  conceptions  and  feelings  are  bound 
up  with  his  conception  of  the  world  and  of  himself,  they 
correspond  to  the  level  he  occupies  in  culture  in  the  course 
of  evolution.  Consequently,  to  interpret  the  religious  ideas 
and  practices  of  a  people  one  must  be  able  to  put  himself 
into  their  world,  to  think  as  they  think,  and  feel  as  they  feel. 
The  only  definition  of  religion  which  it  seems  possible 
to  frame  must  be  in  terms  of  sufficient  generality  to  include 
every  conception  and  ever}'  form  of  feeling  and  will-action 
which,  to  the  indi\'idual,  has  a  religious  significance.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  definition  can  be  scarcely  more  than  the  mere 
statement  that  religion  is  that  attitude  to  the  world-reality 
by  which  man  seeks  the  maintenance  of  his  life,  and  the 
satisfaction  of  those  needs  he  is  not  able  to  satisfy  by  his 
unaided  powers.  This  attitude  is  a  thinking  attitude,  in 
that  man  gives  to  his  world  a  meaning  for  his  life-needs. 
It  is  a  feeling  attitude,  in  that  man  responds  to  the  object 
of  his  belief  by  appropriate  emotions.     It  is  a  will-attitude 


270  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

in  that  certain  actions  are  always  performed  for  the  purpose 
of  maintaining  and  making  more  effective  the  relation  be- 
tween the  individual  or  the  community  and  the  Divine  Being. 
In  what  way  the  individual  religiously  thinks,  the  particular 
meaning  he  gives  to  the  object  in  the  religious  relation,  is 
relative  to  his  knowledge  of  himself,  the  meaning  and  the 
value  he  gives  to  his  life.  The  same  is  true  of  the  other 
functions  which  constitute  religion.  It  follows  from  this, 
that  whatever  conception  the  individual  does  form  of  his 
God  is  essential  to  the  relation  he  wishes  to  maintain  with 
this  being,  and  likewise  the  particular  feelings  he  has  and 
the  actions  he  performs  are  essential  to  his  religious  life. 
It  also  follows  from  this  view,  that  no  one  of  the  many 
possible  ways  of  giving  a  religious  meaning  and  value  to 
the  world-reality  is  essential  to  every  individual's  religion. 
The  only  thing  which  is  essential  to  religion  itself  and  as 
such  is,  that  some  interpretation  and  valuation  be  given  to 
the  world-reality  which  for  the  given  individual,  or  for  the 
community  to  which  he  belongs,  does  guarantee  the  main- 
tenance and  the  satisfaction  of  life.  We  can,  it  seems  to  me, 
go  no  farther  in  this  matter  of  determining  the  essential 
nature  of  religion. 

It  will  aid  in  making  more  definite  our  conception  of 
religion,  if  we  consider  the  relation  between  religion  and 
morality,  and  their  distinction  or  difference.  Perhaps  the 
feature  of  religion  which  distinguishes  it  most  clearly  from 
morality,  is  the  recognition  of  a  reality  which  is  extra-  or 
super-human.  In  morality  no  such  extra-human  reality  is 
necessary;  it  may  exist  if  man  comes  to  include  the  divine 
in  an  ethical  community,  but  morality  does  not  require 
this  inclusion  of  an  extra-human  being.     Man  can  maintain 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      271 

ethical  relations  with  his  human  fellows,  even  did  he  recog- 
nize no  divine  beings. 

A  second  point  of  difference  is  the  emotions  which  are 
characteristic  of  each.  Religious  feelings  are  quite  distinct 
from  those  whi'ch  characterize  the  ethical  relation.  Fear, 
reverence,  hope,  joy,  etc.,  are  quite  unlike  feelings  of  obli- 
gation, self -approbation,  remorse,  etc.  We  note  a  third 
difference,  if  we  compare  what  is  fundamental  to  the  mean- 
ing of  each,  religion  and  morality:  faith;  duty,  obligation; 
the  affirmation  of  something  which  already  is,  and  the 
affirmation  of  something  which  is  not  but  which  ought  to  be. 
Religion  is  based  on  the  conviction  that  something  is  now 
real,  morality  on  the  demand  that  something  be  made  real. 
This  leads  us  to  note  a  fourth  difference  between  religion 
and  morality,  namely,  moral  value  is  created  by  man's  own 
action;  religious  value  he  recognizes  and  largely  receives. 
In  morality  the  good  is  that  which  man  creates,  in  religion 
man  receives  the  good.  In  morality  man  asserts  and  evinces 
his  own,  his  highest  power.  In  religion,  man  depends  upon 
a  Power  not  himself. 

Historically  viewed,  we  can  say  that  in  their  origin  moral- 
ity and  religion  are  contemporaneous  and  coalesce.  Man's 
recognition  of  his  human  fellows  and  his  recognition  of 
beings  other  than  human  went  together,  and  his  conduct 
toward  his  human  fellows,  and  his  conduct  toward  his 
deities,  were  regulated  by  the  same  customs,  and  judged  by 
the  same  standards.  Whatever  ethical  value  man  gave  to 
his  conduct,  he  made  his  gods  the  conservers,  the  guardians 
of  that  value.  The  gods  were  associated  with  man  in 
maintaining  and  enforcing  customs.  Nor  is  it  probable 
that  primitive  men   made  an   ethical   distinction   between 


272  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

conduct  which  affected  human  society,  and  conduct  which 
concerned  the  divine  beings.  The  point  of  differentiation, 
if  it  can  be  marked  anywhere,  should  be  put  where  a  differ- 
ence is  recognized,  between  something  which  is  conducive 
to  the  welfare  of  human  society,  and  something  which  the 
gods  demand.  At  this  point,  the  two  interests  diverge  and 
tend  to  become  antagonistic,  the  two  goods,  the  ethical  and 
the  religious,  become  separated;  and  the  possibility  of  con- 
flict between  them  arises.  The  first  definite  stage  in  moral 
evolution  is  marked  by  a  break  with  religious  custom, 
religious  traditions.  The  ethical  reformer  is  irreligious, 
according  to  the  judgment  of  his  contemporaries,  who  do  not 
accept  his  new  ethical  standard;  nay,  he  may  be  irreligious 
in  his  own  judgment,  for  he  may  associate  all  religion  with 
beliefs  and  conduct  he  has  come  to  reject. 

At  this  point  of  differentiation  of  religion  and  morality 
there  comes  the  question  of  their  influence  upon  each  other. 
Is  this  influence  mutual,  or  is  it  on  the  side  of  one  or  the 
other  of  these  departments  of  man's  life  ?  And  if  so,  from 
which  side  has  this  influence  come  ?  That  morality  has 
influenced  religion  is  abundantly  shown  by  the  history  of 
the  Greek  religion.  The  gods  became  more  moral  in 
character,  as  higher  moral  standards  were  established. 
The  Greeks  had  to  moralize  their  deities  in  order  to  keep 
them.  The  better  moral  character  which  they  attributed 
to  their  gods  was  the  inevitable  outcome  of  their  ethical 
advance  which  began  with  Socrates.  In  the  case  of  the 
Greeks  it  must  be  said,  I  think,  that  the  determining  in- 
fluence was  wholly  on  the  side  of  morality.  The  masses 
may  have  been  made  somewhat  more  moral,  because  the 
gods  were  the  defenders,  the  enforcers  of  moral  law,  but  the 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      273 

gods  came  to  hold  this  ethical  position,  because  the  leaders 
of  Greek  thought  were  moral  reformers.  The  gods  came 
to  be  endowed  with  distinctly  moral  attributes,  because  only 
so  could  they  remain  gods.  For  man's  gods  must  be  the 
conservers  of  his  supreme  values.  Only  divine  beings  who 
are  good  can  be  the  maintainers  of  ethical  values. 

With  the  Israelites  the  course  of  things  would  seem  to 
have  been  the  reverse,  namely,  the  determining  influence, 
it  is  maintained  by  some  authorities,  came  from  religion. 
Moses,  the  first  great  ethical  reformer,  was  the  prophet  of 
Jahweh,  and  gave  the  new  moral  commands  in  the  name 
of  the  new  deity.  The  relation  between  the  community 
and  Jahweh  their  God  was  the  foundation  of  ethical 
relations  between  the  individual  members.  Their  duties 
were  divine  commands,  enforced  by  specifically  religious 
sanctions. 

We  have  in  the  case  of  the  Israelites  a  religious  morality, 
and  also  an  ethical  religion.  In  Israel,  with  the  masses, 
morality  was  enforced  by  religious  motives;  hope  of  Jah- 
weh's  favor  and  fear  of  his  wrath  were  the  incentives  and  the 
restraints  which  chiefly  operated  with  the  people,  only  a 
small  part  of  which  understood  or  sympathized  with  the 
ethical  religion  of  Moses.  In  Greece,  the  situation  would 
seem  to  have  been  the  reverse.  The  people  were  forced 
to  entertain  better  conceptions  of  the  gods,  and  to  less 
reprehensible  religious  rites,  by  their  acceptance  of  higher 
ethical  standards.  In  Israel,  the  people  were  moral  from 
religious  motives.  In  Greece,  morality  made  necessary  a 
better  religion.  But  is  it  not  a  fair  question,  whether  the 
religious-ethical  development  of  the  Israelites  did  not  origi- 
nally spring  from  the  ethical  side.     Moses  came  forth  as  the 


274  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

prophet  of  Jahweh,  but  Jahweh  was  a  righteous  God.  How 
did  Moses  know  that  Jahweh  was  in  a  moral  respect  so  supe- 
rior to  the  gods  of  the  other  nations  and  to  the  deities  of 
popular  religion  ?  Did  he  not  in  his  thought  create  the 
Divine  according  to  his  ideal  of  life  ?  A  God  who  would 
maintain  the  purer  ethical  ideal,  and  save  the  higher  value 
of  life,  was  the  only  Being  Moses  the  ethical  reformer  as 
well  as  religious  prophet  could  accept.  Did  not  therefore 
ethical  motive  impel  the  movement  toward  a  more  spiritual 
conception  of  the  divine  and  to  a  higher  type  of  religious 
life?  And  if  the  religion  of  the  prophets  was  a  strong 
ethical  force,  was  that  not  owing  to  the  fact  that  it  became 
ethical  in  spirit,  and  held  before  the  nation  and  the  individual 
a  high  and  purely  ethical  ideal  ? 

But  whichever  of  the  two  influences  was  the  original  one 
in  the  establishment  of  ethical-religion  in  Israel,  the  fact 
remains  that  the  moral  life  of  this  people  was  powerfully 
influenced  and  sustained  by  their  religion.  The  ethical 
religion  of  the  prophets  reached  its  consummation  in  the 
religion  of  Jesus.  The  cardinal  trait  in  the  religion  we 
can  with  most  confidence  attribute  to  Jesus  was  the  in- 
separable connection  between  the  religious  and  the  moral 
life.  The  moral  duty  enjoined  and  the  motive  for  doing  it 
were  of  the  same  fiber,  both  religious  and  ethical.  The 
good  will  toward  one's  human  fellow  was  the  essence  of  the 
moral  obligation.  It  made  the  goodness  of  every  deed.  But 
this  good  will  was  at  the  same  time  an  expression  of  the  reli- 
gious life,  since  this  good  will  was  toward  a  brother  in  the 
family  of  God.  So  vital,  so  inseparable,  were  morality  and 
religion  in  the  conception  of  Jesus,  that  no  one  could  be 
religious  who  is  not  ethically  good;  and  no  one  is  as  ethic- 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  275 

ally  good  as  he  should  be  who  is  not  religious.  "Ye  shall  be 
perfect  as  your  Father  in  Heaven  is  perfect,"  is  the  ethical 
standard.  "That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  in 
Heaven,"  defines  the  adequate  motive  to  the  goodness 
demanded  by  this  ideal. 

But  the  question  now  confronts  us:  is  this  connection 
between  religion  and  morality  an  intrinsic  and  necessary  one, 
or  is  it  accidental  ?  Is  religion  essential  to  the  best  type 
of  morality,  or  can  morality  be  divorced  from  religion  with- 
out detriment,  nay — with  a  gain  ?  Such  is  the  opinion 
entertained  in  some  quarters  to-day.  It  is  maintained  that 
the  time  has  come  for  a  complete  dissociation  of  the  ethical 
life,  ethical  education  and  ideals,  from  every  form  of  re- 
ligious belief,  and  religious  motives.  This  view  is,  that 
morality  is  indispensable  to  man's  development,  to  his  so- 
cial life,  to  the  advancement  of  the  race;  but  religion  is 
not  a  necessary  element  in  man's  spiritual  development. 
It  represents  rather  a  stage  of  his  development,  which  he 
will  leave  behind  him,  an  adjunct  which  may  have  been 
serviceable  to  him  in  the  past,  but  which  is  no  longer  a 
help  to  his  progress,  but  for  the  most  part  a  hinderance. 
This  view,  that  religion  has  only  an  accidental  and  adjunct 
connection  with  the  life  of  man,  and  is  destined  to  entire 
elimination  in  the  future,  has  against  it  the  concensus  of 
opinion,  founded  upon  the  psychological-historical  study 
of  religion.  From  the  historical  point  of  view  and  in  its 
psychological  aspect  religion  appears  to  be  as  much  an 
original  endowment  of  man's  nature,  an  element  in  his 
spiritual  life,  as  indispensable,  as  man's  ethical  nature. 
Man  is  as  naturally  and  necessarily  religious  as  he  is  ethi- 
cal.    The  interests  of  his  life  which  religion  comprehends 


276  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

are  as  deep-rooted  and  indispensable  as  are  the  interests  of 
morality. 

Such  appears  to  be  the  deduction  from  the  profoundest 
study  of  man's  nature  and  history.  There  seems  as  little 
reason  to  expect  man  will  cease  to  be  a  religious  being,  as 
for  expecting  he  will  cease  to  be  an  ethical  being. 

In  concluding  this  discussion,  I  will  suggest  two  ways  in 
which  religion  is  serviceable  to  morality.  It  enables  man 
to  give  a  higher  valuation  to  his  life,  it  enriches  the  meaning 
of  his  existence,  it  takes  him  out  of  the  merely  temporal  and 
transient,  and  makes  him  a  member  of  a  more  vast  and  en- 
during order.  He  shares  the  life  of  those  Beings  who  are 
above  him,  in  whom  he  believes  his  ideals  of  what  is  best 
and  most  satisfying  are  realized.  Now  this  higher  valua- 
tion which  religion  gives  to  the  personal  life  deepens  the 
sense  of  moral  obligation,  makes  more  binding  the  claim 
of  the  individual  upon  the  service  and  regard  of  his  human 
fellows.  The  welfare  of  human  beings  is  important  in  pro- 
portion to  the  valuation  put  upon  human  life.  The  essence 
of  morality  is  conduct  directed  to  the  promotion  of  human 
welfare.  Religion  in  its  best  form  enormously  increases  the 
interest  of  human  welfare;  and  by  so  doing  it  greatlyenlarges 
the  range  of  duty  and  deepens  the  sense  of  obligation. 

In  a  second  way  religion  is  contributory  to  morality. 
It  supplies  the  maximal  stimulus,  without  which  the  moral 
life  comes  short  of  its  finest,  its  noblest  action.  The  moral 
appeal  is  apt  to  fail  of  its  maximal  stimulus,  where  it  is  not 
reenforced  by  the  recognition  of  the  larger  claim,  the  higher 
value,  which  religion  creates.  The  Great  Claimant  must 
be  there  if  man  is  to  make  the  fullest,  the  most  loyal  response 
to  duty  of  which  he  is  capable. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT      277 

The  Problem  of  God,  the  Object  of  Religious  Faith 

The  second  problem  in  the  philosophy  of  religion  might 
be  stated  as  the  justification  of  religious  faith.  We  have 
"seen  that  the  assertion  of  objective  reality  is  indispensable 
to  religion.  The  believer  claims  objective  existence  for  the 
being  to  which  he  unites  his  life  and  his  destiny  in  the  reli- 
gious bond.  It  is  the  function  of  philosophy  to  determine 
the  validity  of  this  claim,  to  ascertain  what  are  the  rational 
grounds  in  which  rests  religious  faith.  Our  examination 
will  limit  itself  to  two  conceptions  of  God :  The  theistic 
conception;  The  pantheistic  conception  or  the  concep- 
tion of  idealistic  pantheism. 

We  must  first  distinguish  these  doctrines.  The  essential 
elements  in  the  theistic  conception  are  the  following: 

1.  The  personality  of  the  Divine  Being.  Theism  main- 
tains that  God  exists  in  the  form  of  Personal  Life,  His 
personality  is  conceived  after  the  analogy  of  our  own  self- 
conscious  mode  of  existence.  His  essential  difference  from 
us,  is  the  perfection  of  the  attributes  which  we  possess  only 
in  an  imperfect  degree.  God  possesses  these  attributes  of 
personality  each  in  a  degree  infinite  and  perfect. 

2.  In  his  essential  nature,  God  is  distinct  from  the 
world,  and  from  our  human  selves.  The  world  is  depend- 
ent upon  Him  for  its  existence  and  the  continuance  of  all 
its  forces,  its  order  and  its  development.  It  is  here  that  the 
line  of  sharpest  distinction  runs  between  theism  and  pan- 
theism. A  pantheist  can  attribute  to  God  personal  ex- 
istence, but  he  maintains  that  in  his  essence  God  is  not 
distinct  from  the  substance  of  the  world,  he  asserts  the 
identity  of   God's   nature  with  our  human   selves.     It   is 


278  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

vital  to  theism  on  the  contrary  to  maintain  the  distinctness 
of  God  in  his  own  nature  from  our  human  selves.     It  is 
especially  the  relation  of  God  to  our  human  selves  that  is 
essential.     A  theist  may  accept  the  Berkeleyan  idealism, 
and  therefore  accept  a  pantheistic  conception  of  the  material 
part  of  the  world,  since  matter  is  reduced  to  perceptions  of 
our  minds,  produced  by  direct  and  constant  action  of  God, 
and  the  order  of  Nature  and  the  world  of  physical  science 
becomes,  as  we  say,  an  expression  and  a  realization  of  the 
world-ideas  in  the  Divine  Mind.     But  on  the  relation  be- 
tween God  and  the  human  self  the  divergence  of  the  two 
doctrines  is  real  and,  as  most  theists  maintain,  momentous. 
.i    For,  as  the  theist  maintains,  our  existence  and  natures  are  so 
\    far  distinct  from  the  existence  and  nature  we  must  attribute 
to  God  that  there  is  foundation  for  an  ethical  and  religious 
dualism;  a  real  otherness  to  God  is  the  basis  of  the  ethical 
and  religious  attitude  we  take  in  relation  to  Him.     As 
ethical  individuals,  our  wills  are  ours;  our  freedom  and  our 
responsibility  are  unique  experiences;  so  are  our  actions, 
our  ethical  experiences  in  right  and  wrong  doing.     And 
likewise  iji  religious  experience  there  is  a  distinction  be- 
tween our  selves  and  God  which  goes  to  the  point  of  pur- 
poses, actions,  and  feelings,  which  are  our  own,  and  are  not 
shared  even  by  God.     Here  our  wills  are  ours,  to  make 
them  His;  but  also  to  oppose  them  to  his  will. 

Pantheism,  while  it  recognizes  in  our  human  selves  some- 
thing which  is  not  in  God,  namely,  finiteness,  dependence, 
error,  and  wrong-doing,  maintains  that  our  wills  are  in 
what  is  essential  to  them  parts  of  the  One  Will,  are  wills 
within  his  will,  and  our  total  experiences  are  moments  in 
the  Inclusive  Experience.     The  essential  identity  of  natures. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  279 

the  oneness  of  substance,  appears  in  this,  that  each  finite 
thought,  when  made  completely  true,  is  God's  thought; 
each  finite  purpose,  if  its  aim  could  be  reached,  would  be 
identical  with  God's  purpose;  each  finite  experience,  could 
its  partial  and  fragmentary  character  be  done  away  with, 
would  be  seen  to  be  one  with  God's  experience.  Every 
human  self  is  therefore  a  partial  self  within  the  one  only 
Complete  Self,  or  Individual.  God,  therefore,  is  what  we 
would  be,  if  made  complete.  We  are  consequently  in  es- 
sence one  with  God.  In  the  fullest  sense  of  the  words 
*'We  live,  move,  and  have  our  being  in  Him,"  and  *'God  is 
all  and  in  all." 

Theism,  on  the  contrary,  gives  to  our  human  self  a  sub- 
stance existence,  makes  it  capable  of  actions  and  experiences 
which  have  their  source,  their  explanation  in  this  self,  not 
in  God — the  Other  Self.  God  is  author  of  our  posnbilities, 
but  not  of  our  actualities.  In  action  which  is  our  own,  and 
self-determined,  we  can  take  the  attitude  of  trust,  obedience, 
loyalty  toward  God;  or  we  can,  of  ourselves,  take  the  oppo- 
site attitude.  These  actions  and  experiences  God  knows, 
but  they  are  in  no  sense  Ms. 

** God,  whose  pleasure  brought 

Man  into  being,  stands  away 
As  it  were,  a  hand-breadth  off,  to  give 
Room  for  the  newly  made  to  live, 
And  look  at  him  from  a  place  apart, 
And  use  his  gifts  of  brain  and  heart." 

Having  distinguished  the  two  conceptions  of  God,  I 
shall  now  examine  the  doctrine  of  theism;  and  this  I 
shall  do  by  a  discussion  of  the  historic  proofs  of  the  ex- 
istence  of    God.     These   proofs   go  back   to  Anselm,  the 


280  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

great  theologian  of  the  Scholastic  period.     The  oldest    of 
these  is  the  one,  elaborated  by  Anselm,  commonly  called  the 

^^^^ontological  argument.  It  seeks  to  establish  the  existence 
of  God  by  a  strictly  a  priori  and  absolutely  cogent  process 
of  reasoning.  Originally  formulated  by  Anselm,  and  later 
modified  by  Descartes,  the  substance  of  the  proof  is  the 
following: 

The  conception  of  God  is  that  of  the  most  perfect  being. 
God  is  not  rightly  thought  unless  he  is  thought  as  absolutely 
perfect.  Now  existence  belongs  to  the  conception  of  the 
most  perfect  being.  God  is  not  rightly  thought  unless 
thought  as  existing.  Therefore  the  existence  of  God  neces- 
sarily follows,  from  the  true  conception  of  God.  God's 
existence  follows  from  the  idea  of  Him  by  the  same  necessity 
by  which  the  equality  of  the  radii  of  a  circle  follows  from  the 
conception  of  the  circle.  To  assert  that  God  is  a  perfect 
being  and  to  deny  that  He  therefore  exists,  is  as  great  a  con- 
tradiction as  it  would  be  to  assert  that  God  is  perfect,  and 
yet  is  lacking  in  something  essential  to  his  perfection. 

It  is  surprising  that  this  venerable  argument  should  have 
seemed  convincing  to  many  minds,  and  some  of  them  emi- 
nent as  thinkers.  A  slight  examination  reveals  its  unsound- 
ness.    The  proof  rests  upon  an  assumption  which  is  very 

I  hard  to  substantiate,  namely,  the  identity  of  thought  and 
being.  Absolute  idealism  makes  this  assumption,  and  the 
thinkers  of  this  type  maintain  that  the  ontological  argument 
is  essentially  valid.  From  another  point  of  view  the  argu- 
ment commits  the  fallacy  of  irrelevant  reasoning.  From 
the  propositions  which  constitute  the  premises  all  that 
follows  is  that  existence  belongs  to  the  conception  of  God, 
not  that  God  must  exist.     God  exists  in  thought;  but  not 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  281 

for  that  reason  does  He  exist  in  actuality.  The  real  source 
of  the  belief  which  this  argument  has  been  supposed  to 
validate  is  the  response  of  our  nature  to  the  ideal  of  a  Perfect 
Being.  The  demand  that  what  is  perfect  shall  be  something 
more  than  an  idea,  this  assent  to  the  idea  of  God  as  the  per- 
fect Being,  comes  from  our  feeling  and  volitional  nature — 
for  if  God  does  not  exist  then  the  most  perfect  does  not 
exist;  and  it  is  intolerable  that  the  most  perfect  should 
not  exist. 

The  second  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  has  been 
called  the  anthropological  argument.  It  was  elaborated 
by  Descartes,  and  proceeds  in  this  way: 

Descartes  said,  he  found  among  the  various  ideas  in  his 
mind  the  idea  of  God  as  a  Perfect  Being.  Now,  assuming 
the  validity  of  the  principle  of  suflficient  reason,  namely, 
that  for  everything  which  exists  or  comes  to  be  there  must 
be  a  sufficient  reason  for  its  existence — in  other  words,  an 
adequate  cause  must  exist  for  that  which  comes  to  be — 
there  must  be  found  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  existence  of 
the  idea  of  God  in  his  mind.  His  own  mind  could  not  be 
the  adequate  cause  of  the  existence  of  the  idea  of  God, 
because  his  own  mind  was  finite,  imperfect;  the  idea  of 
God  is  that  of  a  Being  who  is  infinite  and  perfect.  Were 
his  mind  the  cause  of  this  idea,  finite  cause  would  produce 
an  infinite  effect,  which  contradicts  the  principle  of  sufficient 
reason ;  for  that  asserts  that  the  cause  must  at  least  be  equal 
to  the  effect.  The  only  adequate  cause  for  this  idea  of 
God  in  his  mind,  Descartes  maintained,  was  God  himself; 
and  consequently  God  must  exist  in  reality,  and  not  merely 
in  idea.  This  argument  is  closely  akin  to  the  ontological 
one.     It    professes   to    proceed,    however,    on    a   different 


> 


282  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

principle,  a  conviction,  namely,  the  connection  of  cause  and 
effect. 

Is  it  not  surprising  that  so  clear  and  so  severely  intellec- 
tual a  thinker  as  Descartes,  the  founder  of  rationalistic 
epistemology  in  modern  philosophy,  should  have  thought 
this  argument  valid  ?  Scarcely  more  than  a  superficial 
examination  is  necessary  to  bring  to  light  one  wholly  unwar- 
ranted assumption  on  which  the  reasoning  is  based,  namely, 
that  the  relation  between  a  thinker  and  his  thought  is  of 
the  same  nature  as  that  between  cause  and  effect,  or  the 
relation  between  an  explaining  principle  and  the  fact  ex- 
plained. The  cause-and-effect  relation  holds  only  between 
an  explaining  principle  and  the  fact  explained.  The 
cause-and-effect  relation  holds  only  between  objective 
existences,  or  between  phenomena  in  nature.  The  mind 
is  not  a  cause  of  its  thought.  Descartes'  assertion  that 
the  human  mind  cannot  explain  the  existence  of  the 
idea  of  God  in  it  cannot  support  itself  on  the  principle  of 
sufficient  reason,  if  that  is  interpreted  as  Descartes  inter- 
preted it  ^  The  assertion  is  clearly  dogmatic;  against  it  can 
be  put  with  equal  reason  the  assertion,  man  ca7i  think  of 
God  as  a  perfect  Being.  But  were  it  admitted  that  Des- 
cartes had  established  his  proposition  that  God  is  the  only 
explainer  of  the  idea  of  himself  in  the  human  mind,  the 
argument  would  not  establish  the  essential  proposition  of 
theism,  but  of  pantheism.  For  if  God  is  the  only  explainer 
of  this  thought  of  Himself,  then  it  is  God  who  thinks  in  the 
human  mind;  and  the  human  mind  is  a  mode  of  God's 
thinking;  and  that  is  the  doctrine  of  pantheism.  Thus 
would  Descartes'  anthropological  proof,  if  valid,  establish 
the  doctrine  of  pantheism,  not  the  doctrine  of  theism. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  283 

The  third  of  these  classical  proofs  of  the  existence 
of  God  is  the  cosmological  proof.  The  cosmological  argu- 
ment proceeds  along  two  main  lines,  which  are  distinct; 
and  it  will  be  advantageous  to  follow  out  these  lines  sepa- 
rately. The  first  of  these  proceeds  from  the  contingent 
existence  of  the  world.  The  argument  which  moves  along 
this  line  may  be  developed  in  the  following  way:  Every- 
thing in  the  world  has  its  cause;  but  every  cause  is  in  turn 
also  for  that  very  reason  the  effect  of  another  cause.  Thus, 
there  is  in  the  world  a  continuous  chain  of  causes,  which 
looked  at  from  behind  are  effects,  and  viewed  from  before 
are  causes.  Thus,  everything  in  the  world  has  its  basis 
without  itself,  is  contingent.  What  is  true  of  individual 
things  is  also  true  of  the  world  as  a  whole.  Applying  the 
law  of  causation  to  it,  as  a  unity,  we  must  inquire  after  its 
cause.  But  if  we  simply  ascend  endlessly  from  effects  to 
other  effects,  and  other  causes,  we  should  have  a  series  of 
effects  without  a  beginning,  which  is  as  unthinkable  as  a 
stream  without  a  source.  Therefore,  reason  must  assume 
a  necessary  fundamental  cause  of  the  world,  which  is  not 
in  turn  the  effect  of  another  cause.     That  being  is  God. 

I  will  suggest  the  following  criticism  of  this  argument. 
The  argument  rests  upon  two  assumptions  which  may  be 
fairly  challenged. 

1.  That  what  is  true  of  particular  things  in  the  world  is 
true  of  the  world  taken  in  its  totality. 

2.  That  a  causal  chain  if  extended  beyond  the  world  can 
terminate  in  an  extra-mundane  cause,  which  is  not  itself 
an  effect. 

The  first  assumption  is  perhaps  the  back-bone  of  the 
argument.     But    is    it    tenable  ?     Because    everything    in 


284  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

the  world  has  its  cause  or  explanation  in  something  outside 
of  itself  does  it  follow  that  the  world-whole,  or  the  system 
of  all  these  causally  connected  things  in  the  world,  must 
have  a  cause  or  explanation  in  something  which  is  outside 
of  or  distinct  from  itseK  ?     Can  it  be  maintained  that  the 

-i  ■*>■■■■■ 

world  system  which  explains  the  existence  and  connection 
of  things  within  the  system  must  have  a  cause  of  itself 
which  is  outside  of  its  own  nature  ?  Can  we  assume  that  the 
j  principle  of  causal  connection  has  any  relevancy  outside 
^  the  cosmos  itself?  Is  the  second  assumption  any  more 
tenable  ?  Is  it  logically  possible  to  escape  the  endless  chain, 
if  we  extend  the  principle  of  causal  explanation  beyond  the 
world  within  which  its  validity  is  unquestioned  ?  Is  it  not 
\  a  purely  arbitrary  procedure,  to  avoid  the  regressus  ad  in- 
finitum by  the  assumption  of  a  cause  which  is  not  in  turn 
an  effect  ? 

The  second  form  of  the  cosmological  argument  proceeds 
from  certain  facts  of  the  world's  structure.  There  are  two 
such  facts  each  of  which  is  the  basis  of  a  distinct  proof: 
(1)  Causal-connection,  the  systematic  connection  between 
all  parts  of  the  cosmos.  (2)  Adaptations,  especially  those 
which  abound  in  the  organic  world.  The  theist  maintains 
that  the  two  distinct  lines  of  proof  which  set  out  from  these 
features  of  the  world's  structure  converge  upon  the  one  in- 
ference to  a  world-creator,  who  is  distinct  from  the  world, 
and  to  whom  the  world  owes  the  structure  it  exhibits. 

The  argument  from  causal  connection  is  the  following: 
However  we  conceive  the  ultimate  structural  elements, 
whether  as  the  monads  of  Leibniz  or  as  the  atoms  of  physical 
science,  the  problem  presented  is,  to  explain  their  inter- 
connections,  their   reciprocal    influence      This   interaction 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  285 

is  possible,  only  if  each  element  acts  as  if  it  took  account  of 
all  the  other  elements  and  adjusted  its  activities  and  states 
to  those  of  every  other  like  element,  and  to  the  demands 
of  the  entire  cosmos.  For  the  behavior  of  any  one  monad  or 
atom  requires  for  its  explanation  the  simultaneous  behavior 
of  every  other  monad  or  atom.  Now,  whether  we  assume 
that  a  dynamic  connection  obtains  between  the  elements 
{i.e.,  an  influence  exerted  by  the  elements)  or  whether,  with 
Leibniz,  we  suppose  a  preestablished  connection  between 
these  elements,  the  explanation  of  this  character  of  the 
cosmos  must  be  found  in  a  Being  who  is  distinct  from  these  \ 
elements,  and  from  the  cosmos  itself;  and  this  Being  must 
have  constituted  each  element  w^ith  a  reference  to  every 
other  constitutent  element,  must  have  embraced  all  in  a 
comprehending  thought,  a  cosmic-plan.  This  argument 
concludes  that  there  must  exist  an  extra-mundane  Being 
who  is  the  creative  ground  of  these  many  interrelated  beings. 
I  will  suggest  the  following  objections  to  this  argument: 
(1)  Even  were  the  inference  to  some  extra-cosmic  Being 
valid,  the  evidence  does  not  warrant  the  conclusion  which 
the  thesis  requires;  namely,  that  this  Being  possesses  in- 
finite attributes,  and  especially  moral  attributes.  The 
universe,  so  far  as  we  have  knowledge  of  it,  is  finite,  and 
imperfect,  and  it  need  have  only  a  finite  and  imperfect 
creator  or  explainer.  (2)  This  structure  of  the  cosmos  does 
not  point  to  an  extra-cosmic  Being  as  its  cause  or  ground: 
there  is  nothing  in  the  facts  which  necessitates  the  theistic 
inference.  The  explaining  ground  of  the  world  may  be 
immanent.  The  world  structure  may  be  the  form,  the 
phenomenal  manifestation  of  his  Being,  as  pantheism  main- 
tains.    (3)  But  does  this  structure  of  the  world  necessitate 


286  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

the  inference  to  a  world  mind,  a  unitary  being,  whether 
extra-mundane  or  intra-mundane  ?  Is  it  not  conceivable 
that  these  elementary  beings,  monads,  or  atoms,  are  the 
ultimate  reality  (as  pluralism  maintains)  ?  And  these 
beings,  by  their  actions  and  reciprocal  influence,  have 
brought  about  the  order  and  systematic  connection  which 
/  the  cosmos  presents  ?  Why  must  order,  unity,  and  system 
preexist  ideally  in  some  cosmic  mind  ?  Why  may  they  not 
be  the  result  of  the  action  and  mutual  influence  of  the  many 
independent  beings  ?  Our  world  may,  therefore,  possess 
this  structure,  because  a  world  having  such  a  structure  is 
the  only  one  which  could  exist  at  all. 
^  ^  t  '**  The  second  of  these  cosmological  arguments  is  known 
J^^^^'"  as  the  argument  for  design.  It  sets  out  from  adaptations, 
^  particularly  those  we  find  in  the  animal  world.  These 
adaptations  are  secured  by  special  organic  structures,  and 
functional  activities  correlated  with  them.  Animals  are 
fitted  to  the  conditions  of  their  life,  and  maintain  their  ex- 
istence in  virtue  of  special  organs  which  adapt  them  to 
the  performance  of  actions  which  are  essential  to  the  main- 
tenance and  perpetuation  of  life,  either  of  the  individual  or 
of  the  species.  It  is  this  general  fact  which  forms  the  basis 
of  the  design  argument. 

The  argument  proceeds  in  the  following  way:  These 
adaptations,  and  the  organs  by  which  they  are  made 
possible,  could  not  have  been  produced  merely  by  forces 
or  agencies  which  act  blindly,  but  only  by  an  intend- 
ing, a  designing  mind,  which  either  directly  brings  into 
existence  such  organisms,  or  indirectly,  operating  through 
secondary  agencies  and  controlling  and  directing  those 
forces  to  a  preconceived  end.     Such  organs  as  the  vertebrate 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  287 

eye,  the  wing  of  the  eagle,  the  human  hand,  compel  the 
inference  to  a  designing  mind.  This  inductive  inference  is 
of  the  same  nature  as  the  inference  to  design  when  in  the 
case  of  human  productions  we  have  before  us  certain  struc- 
tures which  show  adaptation  to  uses  or  ends.  Given  a  set 
of  marks  in  a  nature-production  which  are  identical  with 
those  from  which  we  invariably  infer  design  in  the  case  of 
human  production,  the  inference  to  a  designing  mind  in 
nature  is  as  cogent  as  in  our  human  world.  For  the  basis 
of  the  inference  is  the  same  in  both  cases;  that  datum  is  a 
given  structure,  or  function,  the  production  of  which  in- 
volves the  convergence  of  different  and  independent  agen- 
cies upon  a  common  result,  the  cooperation  of  several 
factors  in  the  production  of  a  single  result.  Take  the  eye, 
its  single  function  is  vision;  but  vision  is  possible,  only  if 
each  of  the  several  parts  of  the  eye  is  so  related  to  all  the 
other  parts  that  each  and  all  by  simultaneous  and  coordi- 
nated actions  produce  the  single  result — vision. 

Now  this  relation  of  the  several  parts  of  the  eye  to  each 
other,  and  their  common  relation  to  the  single  end,  vision, 
is  as  undeniable,  as  is  the  relation  of  the  several  parts  of  a 
watch  to  each  other,  and  their  joint  relation  to  a  single  end, 
measuring  time.  Nay,  this  relationship  is  of  precisely  the 
same  character  in  both,  namely,  the  simultaneous  action 
of  a  number  of  distinct  parts  toward  a  common  result, 
the  coincidence  of  a  number  of  independent  functions  so 
as  to  effect  a  single  function.  Now  if  in  the  case  of  the 
human  production,  say  a  watch,  we  can  solve  this  problem 
only  by  the  supposition  of  a  designing  mind,  can  a  problem 
of  the  same  character  which  a  nature  production  presents, 
say  the  eye,  be  solved  without  the  supposition  of  a  designing 


288  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

mind  ?  The  theistic  teleologist  maintains  that  this  argu- 
ment is  perfectly  valid,  that  the  probabilities  against  the 
supposition  that  the  vertebrate  eye  came  into  existence 
\  without  an  agency  of  this  nature  are  millions  to  one;  in 
other  words,  such  a  supposition  is  irrational. 

The  criticisms  of  this  strongest  of  the  theistic  proofs 
which  I  will  indicate  are  the  following. 

1.  Were  this  argument  valid,  it  would  not  establish  the 
proposition  which  is  essential  to  theism,  namely,  that  this 
designing  mind  is  an  all-knowing,  all-powerful,  and  per- 
fectly good  Being.     These  nature  productions  are  none  of 

"  them  perfect,  most  of  them  are  very  imperfect;  not  even  the 
human  eye  reveals  a  perfect  contriver — a  better  instrument 
for  its  purpose  is  quite  conceivable.  And  adaptations  and 
adaptive  structures  which  are  in  a  large  measure  successful, 
and  rightly  excite  our  wonder  and  admiration,  are  mingled 
with  countless  failures  and  defective  organic  structures. 
Consequently  the  only  designer  it  is  admissible  to  infer 
from  organic  nature  is  one  which  is  finite  in  knowledge  and 
in  power.  The  moral  attributes  which  can  legitimately  be 
inferred  from  nature  come  far  short  of  those  which  theism 
assigns  to  God.  The  God  behind  nature  may  be  good 
according  to  the  theistic  conception,  but  can  it  any  longer 
be  maintained  that  nature  reveals  goodness  ?  Or  that 
the  cosmos  as  science  has  made  it  known  is  a  *' school  of 
virtue"?     Could  a  man  imitate  the  ways  of  the  cosmos, 

i  and  not  be  reprobated  by  his  fellow  men,  as  heartless  and 
cruel  ? 

2.  But,  even  were  it  permissible  to  argue  from  organic 
nature  to  a  being  possessing  infinite  attributes,  need  this 
being  be  extra-mundane,  as  theism  maintains  ?     Why  may 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  289 

he   not   be   intra-mundane,    nay   the   world-substance,    as 
pantheism  teaches  ? 

3.  Once  more  the  assumption  on  which  this  argument 
is  based  tenable — namely,  that  the  essential  problem  being 
the  same  in  the  case  of  human  productions  and  in  nature 
productions,  it  must  have  been  solved  in  the  same  way? 
May  not  nature  have  solved  her  problem  by  an  altogether 
different  method  ?  Because  we  resolve  the  function  of 
vision  into  a  complex  structure,  with  a  number  of  distinct 
parts  which  are  related  to  a  single  purpose,  and  which  con- 
spire as  it  seems  to  us  to  produce  the  single  result — vision, 
must  we  infer  that  the  eye-making  agency  proceeded  after  the 
fashion  of  our  human  art  ?  That  it  began  with  the  parts 
and  fitted  them  together  under  the  guiding  idea  of  the  end  to 
be  attained  ?  Is  it  not  quite  supposable  that  the  method  we 
perhaps  must  follow  in  explaining  the  productions  of  nature 
'is  not  the  method  by  which  these  productions  have  been 
brought  forth  ?  May  not  teleological  interpretation  be  sub- 
jectively necessar}%  while  it  is  not  objectively  true  ?  I  have, 
I  am  aware,  already  made  these  suggestions  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  mechanical  and  teleological  explanations, 
but  their  bearing  upon  the  theistic  argument  has  seemed  to 
justify  a  partial  repetition  of  them  in  this  connection.  I 
will  close  this  discussion  of  theistic  teleology  with  a  question 
which  I  prefer  to  leave  open  to  the  student.  Was  the  state- 
ment of  Huxley  justified,  which  was  to  the  effect  that  \ 
natural  selection  has  given  the  death  blow  to  the  argument  t 
for  design  ? 

There  remains  one  more  theistic  proof  which  it  seems 
worth  while  to  examine.  Pfleiderner,  who  elaborated  this 
argument,  regarded  it  as  an  improved  form  of  ontological 


290  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

proof;  but  it  is  properly  an  epistemological  proof.  This 
proof  is  based  upon  the  fact  of  our  knowledge  of  Nature. 
In  substance  the  argument  is  the  following:  Both  Nature 
and  our  human  minds  proceed  in  accordance  with  laws  of 
their  own;  neither  of  itself  determines  the  other  to  con- 
formity with  its  own  laws.  And  yet  the  fact  that  we  know 
nature  is  possible  only  if  the  laws  of  Nature  and  the  laws  of 
our  thinking  agree  or  are  in  a  sense  parallel.  Our  science, 
especially  the  exact  sciences  mathematics  and  pure  physics, 
are  based  upon  the  conformity  of  nature  to  our  minds. 
Were  nature  not  mathematical  in  her  processes,  did  she  not 
as  it  were  geometrize,  and  solve  the  most  complex  and  in- 
tricate problems  of  thought,  then  the  science  of  mathe- 
matics and  of  pure  physics  would  be  impossible  as  an  ap- 
plied science.  Now,  this  fundamental  agreement  between 
the  laws  of  our  thought  and  the  laws  of  things  can  be  ex- 
plained only  by  the  supposition  that  the  world  ground  is 
also  the  ground  of  our  rational  minds;  and  this  basal  reality 
must  be  mind,  and  this  mind  must  be  distinct  both  from 
nature  and  from  our  human  minds;  this  being  is  the  source 
and  the  unity  of  both  nature  and  our  minds. 

But  does  this  reasoning  lead  to  a  theistic  conclusion,  and 
not  rather  to  pantheism  ?  Why  may  not  this  world-ground, 
the  principle  of  this  preestablished  harmony  between  our 
minds  and  nature,  be  the  One-All-and-only  completely  real 
being,  the  substance  of  Spinoza  or  the  Absolute  of  Royce  ? 
Is  it  not  a  simpler  explanation  of  this  harmony  between  our 
minds  and  nature  to  assume  that  both  are  modes  of  the  one 
substance  ?  Our  thoughts  agree  with  things  because  both  are 
thoughts  within  the  one  thought.  To  make  this  argument 
valid  as    a  theistic    argument,   it  would    be    necessary  to 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT     291 

establish  the  doctrine  of  metaphysical  dualism  and  realistic 
rationalism,  a  philosophical  task  which  the  theistic  philos- 
opher is  not  likely  to  accomplish. 

Our  conclusion  must  be  that  the  doctrine  of  theism  is  not 
susceptible  of  proof,  the  theistic's  reasons  not  convincing. 
The  theistic  conception  of  God  is  for  ethical  and  religious 
reasons  accepted  by  most  religious  believers  among  civilized 
peoples;  but  the  strength  of  this  belief  is  not  derived  from 
the  arguments  which  theology  has  constructed  for  the  sup- 
port of  faith.  These  historic  proofs  achieve  nothing  more 
than  to  show  that  this  conception  of  God  is  possible;  such  a 
Being  may  exist.  The  right  to  believe  that  He  exists 
cannot  on  rational  grounds  be  denied,  the  facts  of  ethical 
and  religious  experience  go  far  in  justifying  this  faith.  For 
many  theological  thinkers  no  other  conception  of  God  is 
compatible  with  the  essential  facts  of  religion  or  morality. 
But  the  conclusion  we  have  reached  in  the  examination  of 
the  proofs  by  which  theistic  belief  is  supported  is,  I  think, 
sound;  namely,  these  proofs  do  not  accomplish  the  purpose 
for  which  they  were  constructed,  namely,  to  demonstrate 
to  the  understanding  that  what  faith  accepts  as  true  is  true. 

The  Pantheistic  Conception  of  God. — The  distinctive 
feature  of  pantheism  we  have  seen  is  the  identity  it  main- 
tains between  God  and  the  world,  inclusive  of  our  human 
selves.  Perhaps  most  pantheists  reject  the  personality  of 
God,  holding  that  He  transcends  the  personality  form  of  ex- 
istence, but  this  denial  of  personality  in  God  is  not  the  essen- 
tial mark  of  pantheism.  A  pantheist  may  maintain  that 
God  is  the  only  true  or  complete  person,  the  only  complete 
individual. 

I  shall  accept  this  type  of  pantheism  in  the  examination 


292  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

I  propose  of  this  form  of  religion.  Professor  Royce  declares 
that  the  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  as  an  omniscient 
Being,  the  x\ll-thinker  and  All-knower,  is  of  the  character  of 
a  demonstration,  is  consequently  absolutely  cogent  to  the 
exclusion  of  legitimate  doubt. 

There  are  three  lines  of  this  proof  as  follows :  The  rela- 
tion itself  between  our  thought  and  the  object  of  that 
thought  involves  the  actual  possession  of  that  object  by 
some  thinker  who  includes  in  his  thought  our  thought  and 
its  object.  Otherwise,  we  could  not  think  of  an  object  at 
all.  "Unless  the  thought  and  its  object  are  parts  of  one 
larger  thought,  I  can't  even  be  meaning  that  object 
yonder,  can't  even  be  in  error  about  it,  can't  even  doubt 
its  existence."  (Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy,  p.  373.) 
*Tt  is  just  this  fact  of  our  experience,  that  we  think  of  ob- 
jects, from  which  the  logically  necessary  conclusion  is 
drawn  that  a  thought,  inclusive  of  our  thought  and  its  ob- 
ject, exists."  "The  existence  of  such  a  Being  is  reached 
by  a  rigid  analysis  of  our  most  commonplace  thought" 
(p.  373). 

The  existence  of  an  All-knower  is  proved  by  the  pos- 
sibility of  error  in  our  thinking.  "An  error"  says  Professor 
Royce  (Religious  Aspect  of  Philosophy,  p.  425),  "is  an  in- 
complete thought,  that,  to  a  higher  thought,  which  includes 
it  and  its  intended  object,  is  known  as  having  failed  in  the 
purpose  that  it  more  or  less  clearly  had,  and  that  is  fully 
realized  in  this  higher  thought."  An  error  is,  therefore, 
possible  only  if  there  is  a  judging  thought  other  than  the 
thought  which  errs.  Only  in  relation  to  such  a  thought 
does  error  have  any  meaning  and  a  possible  existence. 
Whoever  says   that  there  are,  or  may  be,  such  things  as 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  29.S 

errors  in  the  universe,  necessarily,  by  implication  asserts 
the  existence  of  that  Thought  for  which  an  actual  error  is 
actual,  and  a  possible  error  is  possible;  such  a  Being  must 
exist  if  I  can  even  be  in  error  about  anything  whatever. 

The  confession  of  ignorance  is  logically  possible  only 
if  an  Absolute  Being  exists.  "Our  ignorance  means  that 
there  is  some  sort  of  possible  experience,  some  state  of 
mind,  that  you  and  I  want,  but  which  we  do  not  now  pos- 
sess" (The  Conception  of  God,  p.  12).  The  knowledge 
we  desire  in  our  ignorance  can  be  defined  as  an  adequate 
knowledge  of  the  contents  and  the  objects  of  a  certain  con- 
ceived and  ideal  sort  of  experience.     "It  is  only  in  terms 

4  of  contrast  between  this  lower  experience  and  a  higher  one 
that  this  ignorance  is  definable  at  all"  (Conception  of 
God,  p.  28).  Now,  the  experience  in  contrast  with  which 
only  can  we  be  ignorant  must  be  an  actual  not  a  merely 
ideally  conceived  experience;  for,  if  we  say,  "Beyond  our 
finite  experience  there  is  or  need  be  no  further  experience." 
the  answer  must  be,  "only  on  the  assumption  of  that  ex- 
perience which  you  deny,  can  it  be  a  jact  that  there  is  no 
experience  beyond  the  finite."  The  proof,  therefore,  that 
the  Absolute  Experience  is  real  is  the  very  effort  to  deny  it, 
or  to  assert  that  it  need  be  only  a  possible  experience. 

;  In  our  very  ignorance  therefore  we  must  know  that  God 
is.  This  argument  to  prove  the  existence  of  God  is  cer- 
tainly ingenious  and  novel;  but  its  validity  is,  I  think,  fairly 
open  to  question.  The  proof  from  the  relation  of  thought 
to  its  object  is  valid  only  if  the  monistic  conception  of  the 
world  is  the  only  rational  one;  and  we  have  seen  that 
monism  is  not  susceptible  of  demonstrative  proof. 

The   peculiar   relation  of  thought  to  its  object  which 


294  THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT 

Professor  Royce  maintains  is  not  the  only  kind  of  relation 
which  can  exist. 

The  pluralist  can  well  maintain  his  position  that  this 
relation  of  a  finite  thinker  to  the  object  of  his  thought 
needs  for  its  meaning  no  other  thinker  than  the  mind  that 
thinks  of  this  object. 

The  rejecter  of  the  Roycean  Absolute  cannot  be  con- 
victed of  logical  contradiction  or  even  of  existemlogical 
error,  when  he  asserts  that  such  things  as  truth  and  error 
can  exist  even  should  there  be  no  AU-knower  who  knows 
that  truth  or  that  error. 

Unless  Professor  Royce  can  demonstrate  the  truth  of  the 
proposition,  there  cannot  be  a  world  in  which  there  are 
only  finite  knowers;  he  cannot  prove  the  existence  of  this 
Absolute  from  the  existence  or  the  possibility  of  error. 
The  anti-absolutist  will  see  as  little  force  in  the  argument 
devised  from  the  confession  of  ignorance.  If  I  merely 
confess  my  ignorance,  my  utter  inability  to  make  affirma- 
tion or  denial  concerning  what  transcends  my  finite  ex- 
perience, what  logical  necessity  is  there  for  an  Absolute 
knower  to  know  this  fact  of  my  ignorance  ?  I,  this  finite 
thinker,  am  competent  to  know  so  much;  and  why,  pray, 
must  there  be  an  Absolute  experience  within  which  my 
fragment  of  experience  must  be  contained  ? 

But,  even  granting  this  argument  is  valid,  the  question 
arises,  Does  it  not  prove  too  much  ?  too  much  for  the  in- 
terests of  religion  ?  Does  tlie  God,  whose  existence  this 
argument  is  supposed  to  establish,  leave  any  room  for  other 
beings,  who  are  capable  of  religious  experience,  of  sustain- 
ing to  Him  that  sort  of  relation  which  is  essential  to  religion  ? 
Does  not  the  reasoning  by  which  Professor  Royce  thinks 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  CONDUCT  295 

he  conclusively  proves  the  existence  of  his  One  God,  if  it 
proves  anything,  prove  that  only  God  really  exists  ?  The 
student  will  recall  the  objections  to  the  Roycean  Monism 
in  the  chapter  on  monism  and  pluralism  and  he  will  see 
that  these  same  difficulties  lie  in  the  way  of  accepting  this 
form  of  monism  in  its  religious  aspect.  But  in  reference 
to  this  ver\'  persuasive  doctrine  of  Professor  Royce,  the 
counsel  I  have  had  occasion  to  give  in  more  than  one 
instance  is  again  in  place.  Weigh  and  decide  for  yourself. 
"Prove  all  things,  hold  fast  to  that  which  is  good." 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Of  the  numerous  books  which  the  student  could  use  in 
connection  with  this  First  Course  in  Philosophy,  I  have 
limited  my  references  to  those  which  I  think  are  best  suited 
to  the  stage  of  philosophic  culture  which  this  course  assumes. 
The  advanced  student  in  philosophy  should  need  no  refer- 
ences; he  should  seek  out  the  leaders  of  thought  and  de- 
pend upon  his  own  selection  and  use  of  authorities. 

The  references  which  follow  are  arranged  according  to 
the  order  of  topics  in  the  text. 

THE  MEANING  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

Paulsen:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Introduction. 
Perry:     The  Approach  to  Philosophy,  Chapter  I. 
Royce:     The  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy,  Introduction. 

REALISTIC  AND  IDEALISTIC  CONCEPTIONS  OF  BEING 

Royce:    The  World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Lectures  II,  III  and 

VII. 
Perry:     The  Approach  to  Philosophy,  Chapter  X. 
^Present  Tendencies  in  Philosophy,  Chapters  XII  and  XIII. 

MATERIALISM 

Paulsen:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Book  I,  Chapter  I. 
Miss  Calkins:     Persistent  Problems  in  Philosophy,  Chapter  III. 
Lange:     History  of  MateriaHsm,  Vol.  II,  Second  Section,  Chapters 

I  and  II;  Vol.  Ill,  Fourth  Section,  Chapter  III. 
Buchner:    Force  and  Matter. 

IDEALISM 

Berkeley:    Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Dialogues,  Hylas  and 

Philonous. 
Royce:  The  ReHgious  Aspect  of  Philosophy,  Chapter  X. 

The  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy. 

The  World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Lectures  VII  and 

VIII;  Vol.  n,  Lectures  IV  and  V. 

297 


298  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Perry:     Present  Tendencies  in  Philosophy,  Part  III,  Chapters  VI, 
VII  and  VIII. 

DUALISM 

B.  Russell:     Problems  in  Philosophy,  Chapter  II. 

The  New  Realism,  Essays  by  Holt  and  by  Pitkin. 

Fullerton:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Chapters  III,  IV  and  V. 
The  World  We  Live  In. 

AGNOSTIC  MONISM 

Spencer:     First  Principles,  Part  I,  Chapters  I  to  VI. 

Ward:     Naturalism  and  Agnosticism,  Vol.  II,  pages  105  and  211. 

MONISM  AND  PLURALISM 

Spinoza:     Ethics. 

Taylor:     Elements  of  Metaphysics,  Book  II,  Chapter  III. 

Royce:     The  World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Lectures  VIII,  IX 

and  X;  Vol.  II,  from  Lecture  VI. 
F.  S.  C.  Schiller:     Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,  Chapter  X. 
James:     A  PluraHstic  Universe,  Some  Problems  in  Philosophy. 

PROBLEM  OF  THE  SOUL 

Paulsen:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,   Book  I,  Chapter  I,  pages 

111  ff. 
Strong:     Why  the  Mind  has  a  Body. 

James:     Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  Chapters  V  and  X. 
Taylor:     Elements  of  Metaphysics,  Book  III,  Chapter  II. 
Fullerton:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Chapters  VIII  and  IX. 

SPACE  AND  TIME 

Fullerton:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,  Chapters  VI  and  VII. 
Kant:     Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  Transcendential,  iEsthetic. 
James:     Principles   of  Psychology,    Vol.    I,    Chapter   XV,    Vol.   II, 

Chapter  XX. 
Taylor:     Elements  of  Metaphysics,  Book  III,  Chapter  IV. 

CAUSATION 

Mill:     Logic,  Book  III,  Chapter  V. 

Hume:     Enquiries  (Bigge). 

Taylor:     Elements  of  Metaphysics,  Book  II,  Chapter  V. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  299 

MECHANICAL  AND  TELEOLOGICAL  EXPLANATIONS 

Paulsen:     Introduction  to  Philosophy,   Book  I,  Chapter  II,  pages 

158  S.,  pages  202  fif.,  pages  218  S. 
Bowxe:     Studies  in  Theism,  Chapter  IV. 
Laxge:     History  of  Materiahsm,  Vol.  Ill,  Chapters  III  and  IV. 

RATIONALISM,  EMPIRICISM  AND  PRAGMATISM 

Paulsen:     Introduction,  Book  II,  Chapter  II. 

B.  Russell:     Problems  in  Philosophy,  Chapters  VIII  to  XV. 

Hume:     EnqXiiries  (Bigge). 

Mill:     Examination  of  Hamilton's  Philosophy,  Chapter  XL 

James:     Pragmatism,  Lecture  VI. 

Essays  on  Radical  Empiricism,  II,  III  and  IV. 

The  Meaning  of  Truth,  I,  II,  IV  and  VI. 

Some  Problems  in  Philosophy,  Chapters  IV  and  V. 

Peatt:     \Miat  is  Pragmatism? 

Perry:    Present  Tendencies  in  Philosophy,  Chapter  IX. 

FREE  WILL  AND  DETERMINISM 

Mill:     Logic,  Book  VI,  Chapter  II. 

Paulsen:     System  of  Ethics,  Book  II,  Chapter  IX. 

James:     The  Will  to  Beheve,  pages  145  ff. 

Palmer:     The  Problem  of  Freedom. 

Schiller:     Art.  Hibbert  Journal,  Vol.  VII,  pages  802  ff. 

THE  MEANING  OF  MORALITY 

Paulsen:     System  of  Ethics,  Book  II,  Chapter  I. 
Spencer:     Data  by  Ethics,  Chapters  I  and  II. 
Perry:     The  Moral  Economy,  Chapters  I  and  II. 
Palmer:     The  Field  of  Ethics. 

HEDONISTIC  AND  ANTIHEDONISTIC  THEORIES 

Mill:     Utilitarianism. 

Sidgwick:     Methods  by  Ethics,  Book  III,  Chapter  XIV;  Book  IV, 

Chapters  I  and  II. 
Paulsen:     System  by  Ethics,  Book  II,  Chapter  II. 

THE  MEANING  OF  RELIGION 

Pratt:     The  Psychology  by  Religious  Behef. 

Leuba:     Psychology  of  Religion. 

Perry:     The  Approach  to  Philosophy,  Chapters  III,  IV  and  VII. 


300  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD 

Descartes:     Meditations  III,  IV  and  V. 

Leotez:     Microcosmos  Tr.,  Vol.  II,  Book  IX,  Chapter  IV. 

Pfleiderer:     The  Philosophy   of  ReHgion,  Tr.  I,   Vol.  Ill,  pages 

253  ff. 
Paulsen  :    Introduction,  Book  I,  Chapter  II,  pages  232  ff .,  pages  366  ff . 
Royce:     The  conception  of  God. 
Mill:     Three  Essays  on  ReHgion. 


INDEX 


Agnosticism,  217 
Agnostic  monism,  60 

Berkeley,  see  Idealism 

Cause,  meaning  of,  117;  theories 
concerning,      1 18 ;    knowledge 
of,  125 
Cosmology,  problems  of,  103 
Cosmological  arguments,  283 

Determinism,  argument  for,  231; 
ethical  implications  of,  229 

Descartes,  proofs  of  existence  of 
God,  220;  His  doctrine  of  con- 
nection of  mind  and  body,  100 

Dualism,  dualistic  theory  of 
reality,  19;  dualism  of  soul 
and  body,  103 

Empiricism,  empirical  theory  of 
knowledge,  175 

Ethics,  problems  of,  225;  Rela- 
tion to  metaphysics,  226;  Rela- 
tion to  Religion,  270 

Free  wiW,  and  determinism,  229 

God,  conception  of  which  is  es- 
sential to  religion,  265;  Theistic 
and  pantheistic  conceptions 
of,  277 

Good,  meaning  of,  239 

Hedonism,  theory  of,  242;  Ob- 
jections to  and  replies  to  objec- 
tions, 246 


Hume,  see  empirical  theory  of 
knowledge,  125;  An  imaginary 
dialogue  with.  I^nt,  182 

Idealism,  idealistic  conception 
of  being,  15;  Idealistic  theory 
of  reaUty,  39 

Kant,  theory  of  knowledge,  164; 
An  imaginary  dialogue  with, 
182;  Theory  of  morality,  258 

Knowledge,  meaning  of,  149 

Leibniz,  his  pluralistic  monism, 

86 
Locke,  see  empiricism 

Matter,  materialism,  argument 
for,  26;  Objections  to,  26; 
and  materialistic  reply,  26 

Mechanism,  mechanical  explana- 
tion, 129 

Monism  of  Spinoza,  64;  of  Royce, 
70;  The  two  world  views, 
monism  and  pluralism,  64 

Pantheism,  277 

Parallelism,  see  Soul  and  its  con- 
nection with  the  body 
Perfection  as  ethical  end,  253 
Philosophy,   meaning  of,   1;  Re- 
lation to  science  and  to  relig- 
ion, 1-5;  Reasons  for,  6-9 
Pluralism,  see  monism,  74 
Pragmatism,      191;      Pragmatic 
meaning    of    knowledge,    198; 
Of  truth,  202;  Of  reality,  205; 
Objections   to   and   the   prag- 
matistic  reply,  207 


301 


302 


INDEX 


Rationalism,  meaning  of  ration- 
alistic theories  of  knowledge, 
157 

Reality,  meaning  of  being  real, 
the  two  theories,  14 

ReHgion,  nature  of  262;  Rela- 
tion to  philosophy,  5;  To  mor- 
aHty,  270 

Royce,  his  conception  of  reahty, 
56;  His  epistemology,  182; 
His  conception  of  God,  292 

Soul,  nature  of,  value  of  connec- 
tion with  body,  92 

Space,  its  nature,  103;  Our 
knowledge  of,  103 


Scepticism,  217 
Spinoza,  see  Monism 

Teleology,  teleological  principle 
of  explanation,  10;  Teleolog- 
ical argument  for  existence  of 
God,  286 

Theism,  theistic  conception  of 
God,  theistic  arguments,  272 

Time,  103 

Truth,  meaning  of,  158;  see  ra- 
tionalism and  pragmatism,  202 

Value,  nature  of  value  judg- 
ments, 223 


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